


Man Made Madness and the Romance of Sadness

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Complete, F/M, Plot With Porn, TW: Choking (Ch. 9), minor non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Medieval AU: Natasha Romanov's tavern is overflowing with patrons coming to celebrate the marriage of the king's second, and youngest, son, Loki.  Among the well-wishers, the rowdy patrons, and the never ending flow of new faces one manages to catch Natasha's eye, one who seems to share her opinion that marriage is less than a sacred pact, and that if life is to be enjoyed it should be spent going after what you want.  A pity he's the prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will also be updated at my tumblr: futurerustfuture-dust.tumblr.com  
> Title comes from the song "Bones" by Ms Mr

Natasha was glad they’d stocked up on ale, because these men didn’t look as if they were about to stop anytime soon, already deep in their cups and rowdy as all get out.  If her husband had half a brain he might have tried to throw them out, but he was too busy flirting with the other serving girls, his hand halfway up their skirts when he thought no one could see.  But Natasha could, and she found herself not giving a shit what her imbecile of a husband did.  She wouldn’t have gotten with him if it hadn’t been at Ivan’s insistence.  Nat wasn’t the marrying kind, and though she’d insisted to Ivan she would be better off without a husband, she’d found herself with one no matter what. 

“Alexei, I need another barrel!”  She shouted down the stairs, the wood of the floor creaking as she neared the cellar door.  There was an answering giggle that had nothing to do with the finances Alexei was supposed to be going over before he yelled his understanding.  Anything else he might have said was drown out as a roar erupted from the gaggle in the center of the room and she was called to refill their mugs for the eighth time.  Pasting a smile on her painted lips she filled seven new mugs and balanced them on a serving tray before she brought them over. 

“Here you are gents.  Drink up!”  She encouraged, noting how their eyes fell to her breasts, already pushed up so high they nearly choked her, as she bent over to hand them their new mugs and take their old ones.  She wasn’t ashamed, not one to pull punches when it came to making as much money as she could.  The damn tavern was expensive to keep afloat; no one had ever told her that when she’d been just a barmaid.  One of the men in front of her, black haired and bright eyed, pulled her with ease onto his lap, grinning as he stretched an arm around her waist. 

“What’s a nice little thing like you doing here?” He asked, words running together as he tried to flirt, his hand sliding up her leg outside her dress.  She gave a half giggle as she pressed her side into his chest, giving him an eyeful of her cleavage as she reached back behind to his cloak and withdrew what coins she could fit into her hand without being too obvious. 

“I own the place.  Hard to believe isn’t it?” she asked, winking and brushing her hair to the side. 

His eyes widened but his grin grew more devious.  His hand left her knee to stroke his goatee, a ponderous pantomimed expression coming to light.  “You do, do you?”

“I just said that.” 

“So, you don’t think we could go and get a room, can we?”  His eyebrows waggled.  “Somewhere nice and private?”  Natasha laughed.  She ran her empty hand through his short hair while her other hand deposited the coins into her pocket, the weight heavy against her thigh  The promise of a good meal, of a little something more than struggling to make ends meet, felt strong and reassuring.  She dragged the hand from his hair, trailed it down his face and cupped his cheek to bring his head upwards.  Her lips pressed slowly to the shell of his ear, breath hot against his skin. 

“For the right price, darling, I think we can arrange something like that.”

It didn’t take long for them to find an excuse to get away, and he’d had her pressed up against the wall of the nicest, cleanest room she could get them.  No way was she going to do anything else in a room she couldn’t guarantee was clean.  His hands ran up and down her sides, messing with the strings of her corset as he tried to undo the lacing though his fingers were too heavy and clumsy in his drunken stupor to actually get anywhere. 

“Leave them,” she hissed, his teeth sinking into her throat as she hiked up her skirt and moved one of his hands to the heat between her legs.  “I want you now.” 

That was all it took, a few words whispered in his ear, a tug of his hair for encouragement, and he was rutting shamelessly into her like a bitch in heat. She let her mind wander as he worked, her hands gripping his shoulders tight.  He wasn’t half bad looking, but he was wealthy.  Wealthier than most men that came through, and judging by his clothing he was a high-born, if not noble.  The benefits of being one of the few pubs big enough to support more than fifty or so people.  Not that she’d had a choice in the size of her tavern, or those that normally came to it.  She’d inherited it from her foster father, along with her husband, neither of which had ever brought her any luck or any sort of happiness.  This, being fucked by some random stranger for a little extra gold, was as good as her life got as far as she could see.  At least he wasn’t too bad, when it came down to it, though she’d hardly worked up a sweat by the time she had to fake her own finish for his benefit.  He pulled out before he reached his own.  Good man.  After she assured him that he was amazing and the best lover she brought him over to the bed, weak-kneed though he was, and laid him down gently.  He grinned up at her and reached into his pocket so he could press some gold into Natasha’s hand, more than double what he would have owed for the room. 

“My name’s Tony,” he told her with raised eyebrows and a grin.  Nat’s answering smile was a mix of a smirk and a genuine struggle not to laugh.  Was he seriously trying to flirt with her again?  She patted his cheek, wished him a good evening, and headed down the long hallway to the staircase that would lead her to the bar. 

Alexei wasn’t the only who could have a little fun as far as Natasha was concerned, and just because she had been pawned off to the bastard didn’t mean she had to like his company.  If she was being honest with herself it was more her tavern than his, anyway, and she would do as she damn well pleased.  Before heading downstairs she double checked her skirts and fixed her corset so that she wasn’t hanging out any more than usual.  The group at the center of the room had grown quieter now that their chief noise-maker was snoring in bed just above, and Nat was pleased to see that most other patrons had cleared out and, for the most part, hadn’t left behind too big of a mess.  She thanked the barmaid, Yelena, with a tight smile and excused the blonde to leave again.  Likely to go suck Alexei’s--.

“Excuse me, madam?”  One of the men, this one blonde and well groomed, caught her attention.  Nat perked up immediately.

“Another round?”

“I think I need a room.  We all do if you have the space.”  His smile was the most adorable thing Natasha had ever seen, and she couldn’t help but shoot him the first genuine smile she’d had in weeks.  Maybe even in a month. 

“Yeah, I’ve got rooms for all of you.  It’ll be five gold pieces a night, and breakfast is served early if you want it.”

“That sounds excellent to me, ma’am,” the blonde said, blue eyes glinting in the torch light.  They all six paid without hesitation and she showed them to their individual rooms.  The blonde, who’d introduced himself as Steve, wished her a happy evening before he disappeared into his own room, leaving Natasha to wonder how such a nice guy had gotten mixed up with such an idiot for a friend. 

Closing time for the tavern meant that Alexei would return to the surface to help Natasha clean, or rather he would have if he bothered to pull his weight.  As it was he sat at the bar, drinking ale and fixing his eyes on the quickly descending Natasha.

“Do you have to wear shit like that that shows you off to the whole world?”  He asked, eyes narrowing as he watched her come closer.  Her eyes narrowed.  He was looking for a fight, baiting her until she gave in and pushed back.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to this time, wondering if it wouldn’t be more satisfying to frustrate him through her lack of responses, or if she just wanted to yell at him and get it out of her system and over with.  She was all for passive aggressive torment, however, and so kept her tongue in check. 

“I don’t know what you mean, husband.  I am simply doing my job.” 

He snorted, rolling his eyes while he drained his mug.  When he moved to fill it back up Nat snapped at him not to drink it all.  He made even worse company when he was drunk, besides. 

“I do the expenses, let me worry about how much we have to spend on it,” was his less than brilliant retort, the same one that he’d given her every time she told him to stop drinking.  She didn’t even know why she opened her mouth except for perhaps the habit of needing to comment on every piss poor thing he did. 

With light feet she made her way over to the door to draw the lock and bolt the door.  As she worked her way around the room, wiping off tables and sweeping up the scraps left on the ground, she put out the torches by dipping them in the buckets of water she strategically placed around the floor.  The hissing and spitting of the flames was a soothing sound, her way of asserting what control she had over such a powerful force.  Too many buildings had gone up in flames, and while Natasha was no lover of fire she couldn’t see how they could ever do without it, so she took pleasure in destroying what she knew could control her, taking her victories, no matter how small, where she could. 

“So, are you going to tell me where we keep getting all this extra money from?” Alexei called to her from the bar, counting what Nat had emptied out of her pockets for the evening. 

“It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t, woman, this is as much my place as it is yours.”

Natasha shot him a hard look, too exhausted to take any of his crap.  He didn’t get to tell her what she could and could not do, not in her house.  “I told you—stay out of it.” 

He must have sensed she wasn’t in a mood to be trifled with because he turned his harsh gaze back to the paper work in front of him.  At least he’d learned to listen to her when she told him to shut up; it was a step Ivan had never bothered with.  She’d worked the hardest for what she made when her foster fathered owned this place, but if he found out she was picking up anything extra on the side?  She’d never hear the end of it, and often had to skip out on repeating the process for weeks at a time so that the bruises could heal.  Her knee still gave her hell when it was about to rain. 

“Are you going to sleep with me tonight?” Alexei asked as Natasha drew nearer, picking up a rag to wash out the last few mugs left behind by her final customers. 

“No.”  Her voice was curt and cut any hope he might have had to the quick.  They slept in separate rooms at Natasha’s demanding.  Alexei knew she had no love for him, and she refused to even sleep beside him since the time she’d found him with Yelena in their marriage bed.  Since then she’d taken to sleeping in one of the guest rooms.  She supposed it was just lucky enough they never filled every room so she had to sleep in the same bed as Alexei.  It would have made her feel too filthy. 

He left without another word, the paper work put aside for the evening.  Before he’d disappeared up the stairs he’d tried for a kiss, but he tasted too much like Yelena for Nat to do anything other than push him away with a hard glare. 

“One of these days you’ll remember that I am your husband, and you are my wife.” 

“I’d love to see you do anything about it.”  She said as she rolled her eyes.

“You won’t be this cocky forever.  Remember that one day you’re going to need me, and then you’re going to wish you never made a cuckold of me.” 

He never learned that threatening didn’t do a thing to her; she’d had a life of them from his predecessor that made his look laughable.  As she tallied up the remaining stock from the front she remembered the times Alexei had thought himself as bold and tough as Ivan.  Her beloved husband had once beaten her any time she’d dared to talk back to him, but he lacked the common knowledge Ivan had had to leave her face alone.  Nat would have to spend more time lying in bed with bruises covering her face, wasting time and money, before she could heal up and work again.  And after the miscarriage. . .

She turned her thoughts away.  That was much too dark to brood on at that moment, and it certainly didn’t make a fitting subject before bed.  The ache in her feet from a full day’s work hit her like a battering ram and Nat found her way upstairs by candle light.  Once she was blessedly free of that damn corset and the skirts she had to pile on day after day she was able to collapse and relax in her bed, the door to her bedroom bolted and extra secured by the chair leaning up against the handle.  Too many times had Alexei tried to sneak in when she was sleeping; wariness kept her safe from any more of his idiotic advances. 

* * *

 

The next morning came with an explanation of why the city had suddenly been flooded with more inhabitants than Natasha had seen since she’d been moved here.  The second prince of the king was getting married, and apparently it was such a big to-do that the kingdom’s people, both high and low born, were scrambling to find a place in the city for the ceremony.  It was roughly a week away, and business had never been better.  Natasha was kept busy from dawn until dusk and she found herself enjoying it immensely.  She was free from having to worry about money now, able to pick pockets with ease in the confusion and noise that came with large crowds.  Alexei had even left to speak with their provider about getting an advance on their goods so that they wouldn’t run out in the time to come.  Good thing, too, because their stores were depleting rapidly and if there was one thing the bastard understood it was the importance of having, because once that went away so did the customers. 

The men that had visited her establishment were planning on staying for a few days more before going on their merry way, friends of the eldest prince but apparently not fans of the politics and the madhouse the castle had become.  Steve had told her that he and Thor, the heir to the throne, had become fast friends while attending boarding school some years ago, the both of them having lessons that simply weren’t being learned while at home.  Natasha had listened with feigned interest as she served the men at her bar. 

“He’s a good man,” Steve assured her with a smile.  “Pompous on occasion, but good.  He’ll be a good king.”

“Of course he will.”  As if she could say anything else; she valued her head atop her shoulders and wasn’t about to endanger its position.  Without being prompted she refilled Steve’s mug, understanding that the more ale the men had in their bellies the more talkative they became.  He thanked her for that and slid a gold coin in her direction.  For once she found herself waving it away.  She’d already stolen more than that from his friend, Tony, and she enjoyed Steve’s company enough that she didn’t need to be bribed. 

“On the house, darling.”  She winked.  “So, what about his brother?  Loki?”

Steve’s expression turned swiftly to that of dislike, and his blue eyes focused on the contents in his mug.  “He’s interesting.  Couldn’t be any different than Thor and while I hate to say anything bad about someone he’s . . . he’s not a good guy.  He’s a sadist at best, and his sense of humor is deplorable.”

She paused in her job to focus on what he’d said.  They were harsh words, and strange to be coming from such a polite man, though his perception of the prince wasn’t anything that Natasha hadn’t heard before.  There had been rumors of the prince’s appetites and mannerisms; some said his soul was as dark as the pits of hell and his sense of humor so twisted not even God could straighten it out.  She’d never taken much stock in it, not having any reason to.  It wasn’t as if she was going to parley with the prince any time soon.  But the way that Steve looked when Nat had asked him about the black-haired man had unnerved her.  She couldn’t imagine the man in front of her saying a bad thing about anyone, but the expression on his face, as though he was about to throttle his mug, had her worried.  She reached over to pat his hand a little, a smile lifting her face when he looked up at her. 

“I suppose it’s a good thing he’s not next in line then, right?” 

Steve just smiled and drank to that.  He was joined by the rest of his company, including the always interesting Tony, who winked when he caught Natasha’s eye.  She nearly laughed as she turned away.  For a bunch of loud idiots they’d grown on her, and she would hate to see them leave for what cities they had come from when the week was up and the festivities had passed.  A small wave of regret spread over her with that revelation and she turned away to fill another order to keep herself from dwelling on it.  She would deal with her pathetic sorrow and regret at another time, bury it away until it turned into a fleeting memory.  For now she had orders to take, money to bring in for her business, and the happiness had always been easy to imitate so long as no one was looking closely enough. 

* * *

 

The festivities managed to trickle into Natasha’s tavern all throughout the day, rowdy travelers bringing stories of how beautiful the bride was, how peaceful and joyful the King and Queen were, and how the eldest prince had already decreed a royal hunt to take place that late afternoon in his younger brother’s honor.  All were invited to partake if they could, and there was a great deal of excitement about that.  Such matters were usually restricted to the wealthy and high born; for a commoner to go was the chance of a life time.  Yelena had her eye set on a man who came in with a pack of hunting dogs supposedly good enough to smell out a deer from halfway across the forest, and Nat rolled her eyes when she saw Yelena kiss him good luck.  The woman was an idiot.  Everyone knew that Thor or Loki would get the kill, no exceptions.  Even if a low born did none would believe it. Assuming they managed to get away with their head they’d be expected to keep their silence as the story of how the nobles besting of the beast circulated through the town. 

Either way it was good for business and Natasha wasn’t about to complain as men bought ale after ale, telling their stories about hunting and the beasts caught and lost within the thick wood just beside the palace.  They were likely to say anything, and more than once Natasha had to keep her laughter to herself as she heard exaggerations piled on until there were oaths sworn about unicorns sighted near one of the streams, and rumors about how the young prince could shape shift into a wild mare to bring out the game for his elder brother.  She dared to crack a smile at that one, though Steve’s warning about the black haired man played somewhere in the back of her mind.  But the concept was too ridiculous, no matter how strange the man.  Magic wasn’t possible, let alone shape shifting.  Even if the man was less than favorable company that didn’t mean he was a demon or monster who could bend his shape.  Such things didn’t exist she told herself as she refilled the story teller’s mug. 

“Where on earth did you hear such a story?” she asked, squeezing his shoulder as she perched herself on the seat beside him. 

He grinned as he passed her an extra coin, eager to spill his guts to the first person looking to listen.  “It’s not a story, ma’am, it’s true.  All of it.  I heard it from a servant at the castle; the young prince can change his shape and skin as easy as we can change our trousers.”

“Then it must be very difficult if the process is compared to you changing clothing.”  A roar of laughter followed Natasha’s quip, and even the patron smiled in good-natured humor. 

“You laugh now, ma’am, but I speak the truth.  You’d best keep these doors locked mighty tight, and don’t invite strange folk in now.  He can’t enter unless you say he can.”  His face turned so serious it took Nat off guard as she stared at him.  It was sweet of him to be so concerned, but really, what could she do?

“Tom, if I was to turn away anyone and everyone who was strange but came to the door looking to come in I’d have no customers,” Natasha reminded him, smiling as she kissed the top of his head and thanked him for his concern.  The man didn’t look convinced but his attention was soon caught up by the newest of arrivals, a trapper and his crew from across the water with eyes dark as sin. 

The steady company was kept up until that late afternoon when the hunt was scheduled to take place.  An eerie silence fell on the building after the seats had been vacated, and it seemed the whole town had gone to watch or try their hand at catching the poor animal reserved for that evening’s revelry.  At least Nat now had some quiet time to pull everything back together and restock what she could.  God only knew how crazy things would get when the crowds came back, drunk on adrenaline, fresh air, and if they were lucky, success. 

She was in the middle of a tally of the day’s earnings when there was a knock at the door, far too early and too quiet for it to be anything other than one man.  A late comer to the week’s celebrations?  Likely.  She straightened her skirt and put on her most hospitable smile when she opened the door to find herself face to face with a man she’d never seen before.  He was tall, and handsomer than most men she’d seen with pitch black hair and bright blue eyes that took her in with fast, easy glances, as though he was picking her apart piece by piece and putting her back together just as neatly and quickly. 

“Good afternoon,” he said with an easy smile, thin lips stretching to reveal teeth.  “I was wondering if I might buy a room for the evening?” 


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha led the stranger inside with a blank smile curving her lips, the one she fell back on when she found herself speechless.  She’d been around men as long as she could remember, and there had been many that she’d found exceedingly attractive, but something about this one had just taken her by surprise.  Like Steve, he was exceptionally well mannered, thanking her when she offered him a seat and drink while she went to go prepare one of the last few rooms they had empty.  She was glad for the vacancy, too.  No way was she going to turn down a nobleman, not when they had the money to spend.  When she returned the man was still standing, not having touched his mug of ale, and simply looked around the room as if it were the most interesting place he’d been.

“Is the ale not to your liking, m’lord?” Natasha asked, bristling at her hospitality going to waste.  That was good drink, after all, and could have gone to a paying customer rather than someone who was just going to turn his nose up at it.  Handsome or not, no one snuffed what she gave them. 

His smile was apologetic as his eyes moved slowly to the mug, then back to her.  “I don’t quite have a taste for ale, I am afraid, though the thought is very much appreciated.” 

The empty smile fell back onto her lips as she nodded her head and motioned for him to follow her up the stairs to his room.  “Will you be staying with us for just the night, m’lord?”

“No, I fully intend on staying for the week.” 

“I require payment upfront.” 

“Very well.”  He stopped her halfway up the stairs to press more than enough coins into her hand.  “I have one request for you as well: your silence about my whereabouts.”

She grew wary, eyes narrowed as she turned to stare at him from two stairs above, yet still at eye level with him.  “I don’t want any trouble in my tavern, m’lord.  If you intend on putting a blemish on my reputation--.”

“My dearest lady.”  He took her hands in his, his skin frigid against hers and the movement making her eyes widen and her cheeks heat up as if she were some maiden being kissed behind the barn.  She cursed herself, trying to force her cheeks to cool.  “All I ask is that you tell no one that I am staying here.  I assure you I am not planning anything nefarious, and I certainly would not dare to cast you in any sort of negative light when your hospitality is a boon.  You have my word that I shall not conduct any unwanted business within your establishment.”  He brought her hands up and pressed his lips to the backs.  There went her determination not to blush. 

“Thank you, sir.”  She murmured, pulling her hands free and hurrying up the rest of the stairs, mind whirling.  No highborn she knew would ever have done anything like that to her.  Well, save perhaps Steve, but he was so innocent she hardly thought he would count.  There was a brief silence between them before: “Would you mind if I ask why you are staying here if you do not wish for anyone to find you?  I would have assumed off road would be safer; less prying eyes.”  She’d thought about it a few times, running away, taking the money and leaving Alexei with nothing, but as messed up as it was she was devoted to this place and the comforts it afforded her.  Living on the road was messy, and finding a new town . . . before she had been afraid Ivan would have found her and the fear had kept her sedentary.  Yet even now, even though Alexei was nowhere near as intelligent as Ivan, something about the idea still put her on edge. 

“On the contrary, I find that the populated cities are the best.  No one notices you if you are simply another tourist.”  He told her with a knowing smile that makes her wonder just how many times he’s done it.  They’d stopped in front of his room, the one just beside Steve’s when he thanked her once more for her hospitality and pressed his lips once more to the back of her hand.  This time she managed to keep the blushing to a minimum, and informed him instead, as she pulled her hand away, of the time she closed the tavern doors and when he could expect breakfast if he wanted it.  The door shut between them after he told her he understood, and Nat was left to walk back downstairs and consider just what had made this man so afraid he had to go into hiding.  That he was keeping away from someone was the most logical assumption, she thought as she got to cleaning up the tavern again.  The sun was already beginning to fade beneath the tree-line and that meant her customers would be back soon enough.  

* * *

 

She sold the rest of her rooms that night, and as expected the tavern was quickly filled by raucous laughter and stories of the hunt.  It turned out that Natasha’s prediction had come true; Thor had caught the elk, though all the others were quick to remark about how they never saw the guest of honor, the to-be-married prince.  Some said nerves had caught up with him and that the man was having second thoughts about his marriage, despite the would-be princess’s beauty and virtue.  Natasha thought she sounded like a prude, and cut down the idea that the prince was afraid. 

“It’s not as if she’s got teeth down there,” Natasha laughed as she refilled a mug and winked at the shudders that image elicited in the men near her. “What’s there to be afraid of?”

“Come now, Nat.”  One of her regulars, a thin man with thin lips and greedy eyes, grinned at her. “Surely you remember what it was like before you were married?  The freedom?  I expect Loki has heard he’s to stop bedding wenches once they put a princess in his bed.  He’ll have to be faithful, else old Odin will have his head.  Sigyn comes from too good of stock to be cast aside for some whore.” 

Freedom before marriage had been a broken dream for Natasha, squashed beneath Ivan’s feet so often she’d stopped bothering to try and find it, so it wasn’t as though she could relate.  Without a word to say to the man she squeezed his shoulder and stepped away to treat the rest of her customers.  As she passed by Steve’s group, huddled near the side of the room and looking very much like they didn’t want to be bothered, she could hardly make out their conversation.    

“Thor was absolutely furious—and rightly so,” one of the men said, his curly mop of black hair setting him apart from the others, brown eyes searching the faces of his company.  His hands were clenched so tightly around his mug that his knuckles were white.  “Loki shouldn’t be wandering off without telling anyone where he’s going—especially not when it’s this close to his wedding day.  If he doesn’t go through with this, the treaty doesn’t go through, no matter how close Sigyn’s family is to theirs.” 

“Loki’s always been known for mischief.”  A different blonde sitting beside Tony shrugged before taking a deep swig from his mug.  “I don’t see why Thor should be so worried.  He’ll turn up.  In fact, I’m sure the young prince is probably at the castle drinking wine and having a laugh at the worry he caused his elder brother today.”  He looked around the group, as if inviting them to share in his joke, but no one else was laughing. 

“Fandrall, this isn’t a onetime thing; Loki’s been going in and out for some time.”  It was Steve who perked up this time, eyes narrowed at the man opposite him.  “No one knows where he goes, not even Amora.  Do you have any clue what that could mean for them if word gets out about it. . .”  Shortly after Steve’s attention shifted to where Natasha was standing not too far away, paused to listen to what they were saying.  She flushed and turned away, not wanting to hear the rest of what they were saying.  It wasn’t any of her business, even if that had never stopped her before.  Even as she walked away she could feel Steve’s eyes on her until she had disappeared behind the bar, when he must have turned his attention back to the conversation with his group. 

For the rest of the evening they danced around one another, Natasha moving forward to offer more ale to their table but never saying a word to him while he kept his gaze and hands to himself.  She’d offended him, then, with her intrusion before, and she couldn’t say that she blamed him.  Yet she vowed to see it as a silver lining.  It would make it easier for her when they left.  He stopped off at the bar only once to speak with her just before he was about to turn in.  His blue eyes searched hers for a few moments, Natasha not willing to break the eye contact first. 

“Madam,” Steve started, dipping his head quickly.  The next time he spoke his voice was quieter, for her ears alone.  “I would appreciate if you did not spread around what news you heard my company and I speak of.” 

Natasha gave a quick nod.  That was what he was afraid of?  She didn’t see how the news would be advantageous for anyone or dangerous for the young prince if the wrong ears heard it, but pushing wasn’t a good idea.  So she kept her tongue in check and watched once more as Steve bobbed his head before heading upstairs.  

 

Without Alexei there the duties of closing and inventory were left entirely to Natasha, though it was hardly different than any other time, only involving a little more paper work.  Not that she minded.  Perhaps this was what that patron had been describing when he’d said freedom. She was allowed to hum and relax as she worked, finding bliss in absence of his incessant questions and ludicrous comments about how she lived her life.  She was gloriously, amazingly, free. 

The majority of the work was menial to begin with, allowing her mind to wander as she did the same around the room, dustpan and broom taking care of the mess left from the crowded evening.  Perhaps there were more ways that she could convince Alexei to leave, and she contemplated them with a smile on her face as she wiped down the bar with a clean, wet rag.  She could certainly do with more time to herself; even her patrons seemed to be in a better mood with the oaf out of the way.  Of course it was likely the high spirits from the excursion this morning, but perhaps if she showed him how much they made when he was gone as opposed to when he was there.  Alexei had adopted Ivan’s love for gold above all else, surely he would understand.  And if he didn’t, well, then things would have to go back to the way they were with her ignoring him. 

Once more the door had been bolted and barred, and Natasha was just going around the room putting out the torches when there was a knock.  She froze in her spot, the torch shaking in her hand as her heart thudding in her ears so hard that it nearly drown out the next knock and the voice coming through the door.  “Excuse me?  Can you let me in, please?  I have a room here and I would like to get back to it.” 

With slow feet Natasha moved closer to the door, staring through the imperfect glass at the stranger outside.  She supposed she’d recognize those eyes anywhere, and with trembling fingers she removed the wooden beam and undid the bolt.  The heavy door swung slowly inward as she stared at the man, sopping wet from the downpour just outside. 

“You’re out late.”  She remarked as the stranger from that morning came in, shaking his rain-soaked long black hair, the ends of which had begun to curl upwards. 

“I was unaware I had a curfew,” came his curt answer, eyes flashing as they lowered to meet her gaze.  She stiffened. 

“I told you I didn’t want any trouble.”  Her voice was a growl, a threat.  There might half a foot between them in height, but she’d be damned if she couldn’t be just as formidable as him.  “And I remember telling you when I closed everything down when you first came to buy your room.  If you intend on staying here--.”

But he wasn’t even paying attention to her anymore, his eyes wandering as though she bored him.  She nearly threw him out right then.  “I am sorry, I do not mean to be rude but do you have any food?”  He asked, and Natasha was so incensed that she nearly slapped him, hands twitching at her sides.  How was that not rude?  The bastard.

“Yes,” she gritted.  “Though nothing befitting a high born.  There’s bread, a little butter, and some pork if you wish it.” 

She wasn’t feeling quite hospitable until he pressed the gold into her hand before even being prompted.  Without even having to count Nat could tell more than enough.  She kept her mouth shut after that, moving to grab what food had been left over and brought it behind the bar where he had pulled up a stool to sit at the lower counter.  As she said, it certainly wasn’t anything lordly, but he ate it all the same without complaint, thanking her when he was finished with a wide smile.  “Your hospitality is much appreciated.  I will do my best to adhere to your rules for the evenings.” 

“Thank you,” was all she could think to say, trying to gauge his expression.  She could divine nothing.  His mood swings were throwing her off, and she didn’t know whether to be mad at him for scaring her half to death, or thankful for the money he’d just given her.  She returned back to the paperwork sitting just beside her guest, waiting for her to rifle through it, count up their profits and expenses, and there was a bottle of wine she’d pulled from the stores that had her name on it.  Her guest watched as she broke the wax seal, uncorked the bottle, and took a deep swig from the green glass lips, her eyes closing as an involuntary groan sounded deep in her throat.  Wine had only been afforded her when she’d made enough money for Ivan, and even though the memories that generally came after made her want to vomit, the desired effect was entirely worth it.  When she opened her eyes again he was staring at her, a smirk tipping the corners of his lips. 

“Enjoying it?” 

“Hush.”  She muttered.  “It’s a luxury, a reward for a good days work.”  Not that she expected him to understand, with his fancy leathers and polished black shoes, his strange customs and tastes.  What did he know of work, aside from what he saw others doing?  His eyes were still on her, following the bottle as she set it down.  Her eyebrows rose.

“Want some?”  She asked, though the last time she’d offered him a drink he’d snuffed her offering. 

His smile was inviting.  “If you are not so in love that you could not part with a glass, yes, I would appreciate some.” 

She passed the half filled mug towards him, the only glass she had.  It wasn’t as fancy as what he was used to, she was sure, but he didn’t complain as he took a deep drink and complimented on her choice of vintage.  She just shrugged it off; not like she knew a thing about it, it had been the cheapest.  They sat there without saying a word to one another, her guest passing the time with the occasional sip from his mug as Nat hummed to herself while she polished off the rest of the wine between sheets of paper. 

“This must be a lot of work for one woman,” her guest finally said as he set down his mug to peer over at her work. 

Natasha snorted.  “Yes.  It can be.”  What else was she supposed to say?  “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  After all she practically ran it by herself even when Alexei was there.  What were a few more minutes of paper work to an already full schedule?  She paused, looking up at him.  She could feel the blood in her veins heating up, the wine already muddling her senses and making things a little fuzzy, just enough to keep things interesting without making it dangerous.  Perhaps that was what prompted her to ask him his name, the realization finally hitting her that she’d never asked.

“Magnus.”  He offered her a smile and an extended hand.  She took it, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Magnus.”  She tried for a quick smile as well, but stopped to notice that he was pulling her not so subtly closer.  She let him, able to see each line that stretched across his face with him getting so close and how the blue had begun to take over the green the closer she looked into his eyes and how and how soft his lips were against hers.  Her brain shut off at that point, breathing in deep as he sealed his lips onto hers.  He tasted of bread and wine and something sweeter and it stole her breath to the point where she thought she might faint.  His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her off the stool she’d taken to in front of the bar.  She let him move her, her own arms twining around his neck as her feet barely touched the ground so that she could still reach his lips.  They were gentle against hers, nowhere near as insistent as she was used to, telling her she could take her time if she wanted.  She didn’t want to. 

The kiss turned more feral on her behalf, deepening as she pressed her tongue into his mouth and her fingers dug into his shoulders as she clutched him closer.  His body vibrated with an appreciative moan and she grinned against him.  Good to know that at least in some ways he was very much like the other men she’d known.  With surprising strength he lifted her up and onto the bar counter, his groin pressed hard against hers in the most perfect of ways that left her a shivering mess in his arms.  Her hands left his shoulders to clutch at the wood of the bar, giving herself just enough leverage to buck her hips against his. 

“Natasha,” he murmured her name like it was a prayer, his lips pulling from hers so that they could trace her jaw line to nibble on her earlobe when he reached the sensitive skin.  A shudder ripped through her spine and a gasp passed her lips, eyes open wide and pupils blown.  This was better than anything she’d experienced, as if he was directly connected to what she wanted, to what she needed.  And she needed him right that very moment. 

Her hands had begun to shake as she hiked up her skirt to allow him to get closer to her, one arm pulling him flush against her.  He groaned to feel the heat against his groin and with steady fingers he undid the laces on the back of her corset, practically ripping it from her body and hoisting the shirt beneath it off with one steady sweep.  A hiss of air left her lips as the cold air hit her breasts, skin pebbled with goosebumps.  His hands palmed her heavy breasts, pinching the nipples hard enough to make her jump in surprise, a groan leaving her lips.  Oh, so he could play.  She grinned and his lips moved down her collarbone to her breasts to take over for his hands.  While moaning his name one of her hands threaded through his hair to tug at his hair as her other hand ran down the length of his chest to rub his groin.  He growled his pleasure, hips rocking into her hand as she massaged him through the fabric.  She smiled into the action, happy to see that he was just as affected as she was by this game, or whatever it was they were playing. 

His groan sounded in her ears, but to her surprise he pulled away as his hands hiked up her skirt further, hands on her knees to push them further apart.  He knelt in front of her, a wicked grin on his face as he licked his lips and began to lower his head to between her thighs. 

“Wait—what’re you doing?” she asked, surprised, own eyes wide as she stared down at him in confusion. 

“You’ve never had this before?” He sounded just as shocked, pulling away to stare up at her.  She shook her head quickly, cheeks blushing.  No one had look at her that way, she’d lost any sort of innocence she might have had by the time she hit womanhood, so to find something that took her off guard, well, good for him.  He seemed to feel the same because his mouth spread wide in a toothy grin. 

“Oh Natasha.  You are in for a treat.”  Every word was a promise that made her breath catch in her throat.  With little prelude he was pressing his lips to her already wet sex and ran his tongue up and down her clit.  Natasha had to bite down on her fist to keep herself from screaming with surprise, her hips jerking with the sensation.  Oh.  Wow.  Time didn’t seem to bother Magnus as he paid more than enough attention to the bundle of nerves between her legs, sending shocks up her spine that had her whole body pulsing and mirroring each twitch and caress of his tongue.  He lavished attention on her as though she wasn’t a tavern owner, and he wasn’t some high born man, as though they were--.

No, nothing of the sort.  Her thoughts were becoming too much and so she allowed herself to focus on the sheer pleasure of his actions.  This was more than sex, yes, but the moment she let it affect her in any way other than physical things got complicated.  Natasha didn’t do complicated.  Once her mind had fallen blessedly numb she reached her climax faster than she’d ever known, back arching and teeth gnashing down on her tongue to keep her from screaming.  Blood welled on her taste buds but she swallowed her screams along with it.  Subconsciously her legs locked around his head, keeping him closer to her sex until she’d rode out the remains of the orgasm.  Cheeks flushed and breath being a distant dream she released him the moment she realized what she’d done, not wanting to offend him when he’d just given her so much more than any other she’d ever gotten before. 

“Sorry,” she said, voice hoarse, as he stood up to face her, face smeared with Natasha’s arousal.  She pulled him closer to kiss his lips, sucking on the bottom one as she tasted herself on his mouth.  Strange, but so long as he kept that up she would learn to get used to it. 

“What for?” He asked, taken aback.  “You’ve done nothing wrong.”  He cupped the side of her face, eyes glazed over with a lust they shared.  She shrugged, eyes falling to where his fingers were already undoing the laces to his trousers.  Though Natasha was as boneless as a filleted fish her belly filled with the heat of excitement.  It wasn’t long until he pushed into her, and she gasped in surprise, finding him much bigger than she’d anticipated. Her fingers clenched on his, nails pushing into his skin until he hissed at the sensation.  She felt him jerk inside her, the pain obviously as good for him as it was for her.  The information filed itself away just in case they decided to do something like this again (and oh how she hoped they would.)

“Magnus . . . just a second.  Please,” she whimpered against his lips and he stilled, pulling away a fraction of an inch to stare into her eyes.  Her face broke into a smile.  “I just need . . . just a second.”  He’d stolen the breath from her lungs and as he ran his mouth over her throat and neck it only exacerbated the light-headedness she felt.  After a few moments of adjusting she nodded that he could continue.  His thrusts were slow at first, allowing her the time to moan and fully appreciate just how, well, perfect it felt.  It had been years since she’d felt pleasure like what he was giving her, none of it from her husband but from the men she chosen to couple with on her own time, and this was very, very good.  She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pressed harder into her, canting her hips forward so that he moaned her name and raking her nails down his back.  His hips moved faster as he chased his own orgasm and brought her off to her second and third before he finally groaned and came pressed hard against her.  Her name sounded had never sounded as sweet as when it left his lips cloaked in a moan. 

Breathing was impossible to at this point, even as they stayed pressed together like that for some time.  Nat’s heart was practically forcing its way out of her chest, threatening to break her ribs in its desire to escape.  Magnus didn’t pull away until he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, and when they’d separated Natasha was glad to see that she’d left several marks up and down his collarbone from where she’d bitten and sucked as he fucked her.  Markings weren’t usually her style but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to claim his pretty pale skin as her own.  He must have caught sight of them because he chuckled. 

“A little eager, were we?” he teased, lacing his trousers back up and watching as she pulled her shirt up and over her head, taking the corset they’d thrown aside in her hands as she slid slowly down from the counter.  Her knees nearly buckled as she hit her feet, forcing her to clutch at the scarred dark wood in order to keep her balance.  Magnus’ hand caught her under the arm, long fingers surprisingly strong. 

“Careful,” he murmured.  “We can’t have you hurting yourself.”  She thanked him and regained her footing as best she could, straightening out her skirt as she waited for her knees to find their strength again.  Magnus paused, his face betraying the quickest hint of insecurity.  Taking his jacket from the bar he reached into one of the pockets to take out a few gold coins. 

“I don’t mean to offer offense, but.”  He held out his hand, the gold glinting in what little torchlight had been left.  Natasha shook her head, pushing his hand away.

“Thank you.  After that I, uh, I think I should be offering to pay you.”  She was only joking, and was relieved that he smiled as he understood, because no matter how good that had been she would never pay for sex (though if she did he would have been the one she would make the exception for.)  The papers she’d been working on had fallen to the ground, forgotten in the fit of lust, and she bent over to pick them up.  She looked over them quickly one last time for the evening, hoping the numbers would cool the heat that hadn’t left her cheeks, but with Magnus’ eyes still on her it was nearly impossible. 

After she’d finished Magnus walked her up to her room, as though he thought himself courting a lady.  What a laugh.  “I don’t know what the customs are like where you are from, but generally after a tryst like that, ah, any sort of connection or bond, anything else, ends once we’ve finished.”

The laugh that burst from his lips was quiet and unlike most everything she’d heard before.  “Yes, I am familiar.” 

Then what the hell did he think he was doing?  She didn’t press it, but he wished her a good night before he disappeared down the hall towards his own room.  She watched him walk away, his steps sure on long legs, a slight swagger to his movements.  She bit her lip to stop the grin from spreading too far before she disappeared into her own room.  The thought hit her, as she washed herself quickly before bed, that he didn’t know a think about Alexei, not having been here when the imbecile was around, so perhaps he thought her unmarried.  Well, she wasn’t about to correct him, not yet at least.  That time would come soon enough and she would deal with it when she had to.  No use stopping such a good thing.  

* * *

 

The next morning greeted her with a soreness between the legs she hadn’t known since she’d lost her virginity years ago, but this time a smile accompanied it with the memory of what Magnus had done to her.  For her.  He could come in late every evening if he greeted her the same way, she thought as she made her way downstairs to begin breakfast in the small kitchen, the smile on her face uncharacteristic for so early in the morning. The sun had yet to peak, though the sky was bleeding yellow and pink around the horizon line, and the not even the birds had begun to chirp.  There was still water left over in the basin when she washed her hands, and took extra time to wipe off her face and throat.  The cold water made her hair stand up on end, but it was refreshing enough to be wipe away the remnants of sleep from her eyes.  She left to go draw more water from the well only a few feet from her tavern, and actually bothered to smile and greet the other women, who clucked and squawked like oversized hens.  Their eyes were wide as they watched her draw a few buckets of water.  Never before had she bothered to say a word to them, but Natasha couldn’t help the good mood last night had put her in.  She shot them one last smile before walking away back to her tavern; the groceries would be delivered soon and she had to be sure to slip an extra coin or two into the pocket of the errand boy for his speed. 

Once the sun hung heavy in the sky Steve joined her, as he had the past few mornings, for fresh bread, eggs, rice, and ham.  The latter was a treat for Natasha, an expense she generally skipped for their normal clientele, but for the more prestigious company she thought it appropriate.  Anyway, the way business was going they could afford it.  The blonde man was all smiles as he took a seat at a table nearest the kitchen, complimenting her as he did every time on her cooking and how well she kept the tavern.  She thanked him with a smile and squeeze of the shoulder before the sound of boots on the stairs caught her attention. Usually only Steve was up at this hour, but Magnus had begun to make his way down for breakfast when he stopped at the sight of Natasha’s company.  His eyes went wide for a split second and before Nat could say a word he turned sharply on his heel and took the stairs three at a time to disappear back onto the second floor. 

Steve, noticing Natasha’s averted attention, turned to catch the tail end of the man.  “Is all well, madam?” He asked when Magnus had fully disappeared. 

“Yes.  Sorry.”  Natasha let her face fall into a look of reassurance before she allowed herself to disappear back into the kitchen, mulling over what she’d just seen as her hands worked the dough for the bread later that day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I don't think I've ever written that much porn in my life. Also, hope you like his alias; not the most creative thing I've ever done but I love that name so very, very much. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! This chapter gets a little non-con near the middle, so if that sets you off I recommend skipping to the end.

Magnus didn’t come down for the rest of the day, leading Natasha to wonder if he hadn’t snuck out while she was busy with other customers, or in the cellar bringing up more ale with Steve, who was all too happy to do the heavy lifting for her.  She repaid him with a tart from the kitchen, bringing a smile to his face when he bit into the fruit-filled pastry. 

“Where is your husband?” He asked once his mouth was empty, searching around as if he’d overlooked Alexei and half expected the man to pop up behind him. 

“At a supplier getting us more ale and other things we need around here.”  She said, though inwardly sure that the only reason the idiot was taking so long was that he’d found a nice wench to warm his bed at night.  Not that she minded; all she wanted was the product he was going to bring back.  For all she cared he could return to his whore so long as he dropped everything off first. 

“And you don’t have an assistant or anyone else to help you?”  Steve asked, frowning.  “Besides Yelena, but she couldn’t exactly do the lifting and carrying you need.” 

Natasha’s shook her head, instructing him to put the barrel down where the previous one had been just behind the bar.  Her eyes fell on the spot she had sat last night as she and Magnus had coupled, and she had to look away quickly to keep her cheeks from heating with the memory, a familiar slow burn already starting in her stomach.  “I don’t need anyone to help me out,” she told Steve as she forced a smile on her face.  “I’m doing fine on my own, don’t you think?” 

The man was smart enough to keep from saying anything to the contrary, and Nat patted him on the shoulder and passed him another half loaf of bread; he had a knack for nearly eating her out of house and home when he went too long without eating.  They had some more time alone, many of her other patrons leaving for their own duties in the daylight, and Natasha offered Steve a seat at the bar so she could talk to him while working as well.  His hand found hers to stop her from moving away not a few minutes later. 

“About last night.  I wasn’t very polite about asking you to, well, keep quiet.”  His eyes screamed an apology when she met them, practically begging for an acceptance, an understanding. 

Natasha’s hand cupped the side of his hand, smiling a little.  “I shouldn’t have been listening in.  It wasn’t my conversation to overhear, and I’m sure you’re just worried.”

Steve’s nod was vigorous, pulling away from her hand with some reluctance.  She let him as her attention turned to Steve’s group, soldiering in from upstairs, most still blinking the sleep from their eyes.  The man named Fandrall smiled at her, and the look gave her chills from having seen the same expression one too many times on Ivan’s lips and eyes when she had stood in front of him.  There was nothing she could do but ignore it, keeping her focus on those who wouldn’t stare at her so lecherously.  His attention was likely derived from Tony, who Nat assumed had talked about he and Natasha’s coupling.  While he seemed to think himself special for it the others, save Fandrall, didn’t treat her any different, as if they didn’t care.  Silly man to think himself so important. 

Without being prompted she brought them all food, answering their “thank yous” with a smile of her own.  Tony’s eyes rose to try and meet Natasha’s, and her eyebrows lifted as if to ask what he was looking for.  When his eyes moved to the staircase, as if to suggest they left up them together, she snorted and shook her head.  Way too early, and after last night . . . well, no offense to him but he couldn’t quite compare.  His money would be good, but for once she found that she didn’t need it as badly as she had the first night, and it was a relief not to have to fall back on old practices for once.  She stopped when she’d made it back to Steve, one of her hands finding his shoulder and squeezing it lightly.  He relaxed into the touch.

“So, what has the king planned for this day?” she asked, eager to break the silence that had fallen between them.  “Any exciting hunts or festivals going on?”  She would need to know so that she could estimate how much ale and food to try and borrow from the other villages on the edge of town, providing that Alexei didn’t return back that evening. 

There was a murmur that rippled around the table as the guys compared, none of them quite sure.  Steve thought that there were a myriad of plays to be performed in celebration of the happy wedding and beloved couple, while another blonde, this one with cropped hair and a hard look in his eyes, shook his head and told them that there was to be a festival that spanned the whole day, ending in a private ceremony between the prince and his would-be bride. 

“They’re looking for him to secure a child already,” the man, Clint Barton as his friends called him, said with a small smirk.  “Though I can’t understand why they’re pushing it on him already.  I’m amazed Thor hasn’t been saddled with the same responsibilities.”

“They’re probably hoping that a family will force Loki to take his job a little more seriously, and it’ll make him start playing by the rules,” Bruce said after emptying his mouth of food. 

“Bruce, what would you know of that?” Tony asked with a laugh, eyes gleaming. 

“A great deal more than you: I don’t shirk my responsibilities Sir Run-Away.” 

There was a collective laugh that surged through the group, Nat sharing it as her eyes locked on Tony.  The man didn’t even look ashamed, shrugging it off and grinning with the rest of them.  It must have been nice to not have responsibilities Nat thought as she excused herself to the cellar, assuring Steve that she didn’t need any help.  She needed a bit of alone time, time to pull together a plan for the day.  These men may not have had the most important of priorities, but she wasn’t about to leave everything to the last minute.  A festival meant a slow day but a fast evening, and if she could get the baking done that afternoon she might be able to earn a little extra coin by serving food to those who returned, rather than just providing breakfast. 

She returned upstairs and, seeing the men still occupied with their food and drink, moved back into the kitchen to get an early start.  As she worked her mind was able to wander, this time focusing on Magnus.  She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d left so abruptly that morning.  Perhaps he knew Steve, or at least someone who looked similar.  If she’d been on the run Nat supposed that she would keep away from anyone else, just out of pure caution, though he was taking a risk by getting so familiar with her.  As she let the dough rise she contemplated taking breakfast up to him.  He would appreciate the service, no doubt, and she had to admit that she wanted to stay in his good graces.  It might come in handy.  So, with a smile on her face she took half a loaf of bread, some ham, and some water upstairs. 

Managing to carefully balance the bread between her arm and her chest she knocked lightly on the door, calling out to the man she thought was still within.  There was a pause, the sound of something scraping against the wood of the door. 

“Natasha?”

“Yes, it’s me.  Mind opening the door?”

“Just you?”

Ah, so she’d been on the dot when she’d guessed paranoid.  “Yes, just me I promise.  You looked hungry earlier so I brought you breakfast.”  And maybe she could get some answers out of the bargain, too, assuming curiosity didn’t kill the cat.  There was another moment of silence before the lock on the door was shifted and it opened.  Magnus’ green eyes peered out around the room, as if he were searching for other intruders before he shot her a small smile and waved her in. 

“I would rather be safe than sorry.”  He said as way of greeting, stepping aside so she could enter before shutting the door once more.  Nat set down what she’d brought him and turned when she felt him watching her. 

“Are you anticipating being attacked at my tavern?” she teased, expression skeptical.  So much for him not bringing in trouble; he seemed to expect it at every turn.  His attention had flitted to the food she’d brought him, and without much thought he dug in, ignoring her questions.  At least the rest of his manners were impeccable, even though she could tell he was starving.  What was a nobleman doing starving? 

“Thank you so very much for your kindness,” Magnus said, turning his gaze and his thankful smile to her when he’d eaten his fill, not wasting a bit of it, downing it all with the water.  Nat nodded her head, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.  What was she still doing there?  Waiting around like a damn bitch in heat, hoping to get noticed, that’s what Ivan would have called it.  He would’ve been right.  Excusing herself, she moved to step from the room but Magnus reached out a hand to lock around her thin wrist, anchoring her to the spot.  She turned to look at him, confused, but he simply smiled. 

“I should have offered you a seat, please forgive me.  If you would like to stay you are more than welcome to, though I would hate to presume that you don’t have other things that are more important to tend to.”

How the hell was she supposed to take that?  He had to be one of the strangest men she’d ever met.  One moment he was completely self absorbed and paranoid, the next he was empathetic and apologizing.  Just as last night he’s swung from being enraged to cheery in the beat of a heart.  The realization crashed over her that he was the second man to follow similar rules, switching as he pleased from one emotion to the other.  Ivan had been just as dangerous, and the thought of the two of them sharing similarities was enough to send her heart racing hard against her chest.  She yanked her hand back.  Answers and company be damned, she was getting out. 

“I should be getting back.  Thank you, and I hope you have a pleasant day.”  She said with a voice as polite as she could get it while her heart demanded she leave, thudding hard against her chest.  The last thing she needed was anything remotely similar to her foster father.  Magnus’ expression was confused and his grip on her tightened even as she tried to pull away. 

“Natasha if I have offended you--.”

“No.  I just have to get back downstairs.”  Her smile wasn’t supposed to waver, and neither was her voice.  “I have work--.”

“Natasha.”  She wished she didn’t recognize that tone, the one that she’d grown accustomed to hearing right before she received a lashing, whether verbal or physical.  “If I have offended you I wish to know how.”  He stepped closer, forcing Nat to take a few paces back even as he held her.  What the hell was he playing at?  After seeing her eyes flash with what must have been fear Magnus released Natasha’s arm, letting her step away. 

“Magnus, I’ll thank you not to do that again.”  Her voice had smoothed out, hiding her trepidation behind her bravado.  She hadn’t had to do that in some time, and it felt foreign to keep her face so blank.  He responded, however, not as she was anticipating.  Rather than stepping away able to take the rejection, he crowded her further, his eyes searching hers. 

“Natasha, what did they say about me that has you so afraid?” he asked, backing her up towards the door.   Once her back was against the heavy wood her hand found the handle and made to turn it, only to be grabbed by Magnus and pulled up above her head, her left on trapped between their bodies as he pressed himself up against her.  His free hand switched the lock of the door.  No, no this couldn’t be happening. 

“Tell me what they said about me.  Answer me!” He yelled, breath hot against her face. 

Her breath hiked in her throat and she waited until he’d opened his mouth to yell once more when she pulled up her knee and drove it into his groin.  He managed to trap her leg between them as well, his hips canting against hers and proving just how much his body was enjoying their close proximity.  A scream welled in her throat, though his free hand, the one that had locked the door, was over her mouth and squeezing her face as hard as he could before she could release the noise.  She struggled to shift her body, wriggling against him to try and gain purchase on the situation.  One of her feet stomped down on his and he swore, releasing her mouth just as she heard Steve’s voice heading up the stairs outside. 

“Steve!” she shouted before Magnus cut her off.  His face paled at the name and his grip tightened enough to make tears well in her eyes, sure there would be bruising later that day.  Son of a bitch! She tried to bite down on his hand, but if it hurt him he didn’t react.  She heard footsteps just outside the door, followed by a knock.  “Hello?  Ms. Romanov are you in there?”

She tried to scream something against Magnus’ hand, and the handle of the door jiggled as Steve tried it, only to find it locked.  Magnus’ eyes met Natasha’s, narrowing and growing truly terrifying. 

“Keep your mouth shut.”  He growled in her ear so just the two of them could hear.  The threat made Natasha’s heart stutter.  “I don’t want to hurt you, Natasha.  Please don’t make me.” She shuddered but nodded when he released her. 

Steve was shaking the door knob again, trying to get in despite the lock.  “Natasha, are you okay?”  He asked, again, voice bleeding concern.  Natasha bit her tongue as she watched Magnus stand closer to the door and tell Steve, in a voice that was a higher pitch than normal, that there was no Natasha in here.  There was silence, then Steve apologized and Nat started shaking when she realized that he was walking away. He was her last chance—he couldn’t just be walking away!  Magnus breathed deep, eyes closing in a moment of relaxation, when Nat’s nimble fingers flipped the lock on the door. 

“Steve—please!” She yelled, managing to yank the door open before it was slammed shut again.

Magnus’ eyes were fear filled and furious when she was forced to meet his gaze, slamming the door shut.  Before he could do much else other than follow Nat as she moved away from him, her heart and labored breath loud in her ears, the heavy wooden door flew open with a crash that made the two jump.  Steve filled the door frame and froze.  Magnus’ eyes met his, narrowing in plain disgust and hate. 

“Rogers,” he growled out, stepping away from Natasha, who had been backed into the wall and stared plainly at the pair of men.  It had been easy to assume that Magnus was no friend of Steve’s, but to see the hate emanating from his gaze right there and then?  She was glad not to be in the middle of it. 

“Loki, what are you doing here?” Steve demanded, incredulous.  For a moment Nat wasn’t sure where the hell that had come from, the name so left field it hadn’t registered until she took it all in.  Magnus wasn’t, there was no possible way . . . no.  She stared from one man to the other and Magnus—Loki stood, not refuting the name change. 

“I came to get away from the palace.”  He shot Natasha a look that said he would have succeeded if she hadn’t interfered.  Beneath his glare Natasha lost her tongue and her mouth went dry.  She excused herself, not bothering to curtsey.  She would have to thank Steve later.    

As if matters couldn’t get any worse Alexei had returned, flirting with Yelena who always managed to come out of the woodwork anytime the bastard was around.  Nat’s eyes went blank once she saw her husband’s form, mind already struggling to make sense of everything else that happened.  Without a word to anyone else she threw herself into the kitchen to try and quiet the buzzing in her head with work.  She could hardly meet Loki’s eyes when Steve marched him outside, the soldier’s hand tight on the collar of Loki’s shirt.  The black-haired man had stared at her the whole time he was moved, Nat able to feel the heat of his gaze enough that her cheeks burned from the attention. 

“What was that about?” Alexei asked once the pair were out the door.  The rest of their company had gone with them, each having exclaimed in surprise at seeing the black-haired man with Steve, leaving Alexei confused. 

“That was the prince.  The one getting married,” she murmured, not raising her eyes from the bread dough she was kneading.  “He was staying for a little bit, not that I knew.  He had a different name.”  She turned back to the dough in her hands, to the flour covering her apron and sleeves, all of it familiar and comforting as it helped her find her breath and nerves again.

The truth was enough to send Alexei off in a tirade about how Natasha never paid attention to what mattered, that she always cared more about her own problems than to put the tavern and her business first.  He berated her for most of the day, though his words went in one ear and fell out the other as Nat busied herself with work.  If Alexei knew the truth, the whole truth, he might die of shock, so there was no reason for him to complain to her.  The prince not getting the treatment he deserved was the least of her worries, after all.  She could only hope that he wouldn’t come back to accuse her of assaulting him.  Her blood ran cold at the thought, sure her heart had stopped for one moment as it registered.  Relief set in when she rationalized that he would not want to bring attention to the fact that he’d tried to run away from his wedding day and what went along with it; his family would never allow the shame that would befall them and the family of the bride.  So long as they cared about their reputation and honor, Natasha should have been safe.  It was all she could hope for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna come out and say it: this is not my favorite chapter, and I struggled writing this stupid head like no tomorrow, so I apologize in advance. It will get better, I promise! Just had to get through all this crap first.


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha was going to put off addressing what had happened as long as she could manage, no matter how strange and curious the looks Alexei had given her.  Not that it was any of his damn business, anyway, what she did when he was away.  She kept out of his business, so why couldn’t he find it in him to keep out of hers?  

It was just her luck that early the next morning a procession of men on horses came to the tavern as Natasha was coming back with the water. Her heart nearly popped out of her chest at the sight, swallowing hard as she watched them stop at her door and part. She had been afraid it might have come to this, being arrested for having harbored and assaulted a prince, but none of the men seemed threatening, at least not yet.  She slowly lowered the buckets of water she had in her hands, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear as she watched. A tall man with long blonde hair sat astride a enormous black horse, dismounting as Natasha knelt down upon recognizing his face. Thor simply smiled at her and beckoned for her to stand. When she did, and chanced a glance at the prince, she noticed Loki climbing gracefully down from a light grey steed, expression bored.  Natasha tried not to grit her teeth in frustration.  How dare the bastard look bored when it was her neck on the line?

“Good morning my princes.  What can I do for you?” Nat asked in her most courtly voice, hardly lifting her eyes from their feet.  She may have been a commoner, but she knew her place when the lines between them were so clearly drawn.  

“My lady Natasha Romanov, I have come with my brother to give you thanks for your kindness shown to him.  Loki has informed us that you were more than accommodating when he came to you for help and shelter.”  It was Thor that stepped forward and tilted her head up.  His smile was nearly brighter than the sun, and left her just as dazed.  She was being thanked?  Her?  She’d have anticipated a whipping, or at least a warning that if she came anywhere near the prince again she would lose her head.  She shut her mouth, only then noticing that it had fallen open in shock, and nodded her understanding.  

“Of course. I am honored to have been able to help.”  She chanced another glance at Loki.  His eyes were on her, sizing her up as though trying to divine whether or not she was being genuine.  

Thor followed her gaze, his smile tight as he looked back at his brother.  He moved away from Natasha to clap his brother on the back, perhaps harder than he should have.  “Have you nothing to say to the lady?  She helped you, after all.  You should be grateful.”  With those words he shoved the smaller man forward, as though he was a teenager being forced to follow rules he thought beneath him.  His posture was tense as he stepped closer, and he inclined his head in a quick bow that had Natasha dropping into a low curtsey before he could straighten.  

“My lady, you were most kind to me when I was staying here and I thank you for the kindness you had shown me.”  The words were empty as they left his lips, Natasha knew that, Thor knew that, and Loki definitely did as well.  There was a brief scuffle as Thor stepped on his brother’s foot, causing the black-haired man to inhale sharply and glare at his brother.  

“As though you mean it.”

“I did mean it.”  

Natasha had the faintest of urges to hit them both over the head until they stopped fighting like a pair of children.  How the hell had King Odin or Queen Frigga dealt with these idiots?  It worried her even further that these imbeciles would inherit the throne.  As the two continued to bicker Alexei stepped out from the tavern to come and stand beside Natasha.  A calm, confused smile was plastered on his face as he wrapped an arm around Natasha’s waist.  The movement did not go unnoticed by Loki, whose own eyes narrowed slightly, though Natasha was unable to understand why.  The two brothers bickering ended nearly immediately.  

“Greetings my lords.  How can we be of service today?”  Alexei asked, ignoring how Natasha stiffened as his hand tightened on the side of her dress to keep her there.  Now it was Thor who turned his attention to the pair in front of them.  He shot a dim smile at Alexei, though his attention was mostly drawn to their body language.  

“Who are you, good sir?”

“Alexei Shostakov, your highness.”  Alexei bowed his head.  “I am Natasha’s husband.”

The words hung in the air between the four of them for a moment.  Nat supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that Loki had told his brother what had happened (oh God she just realized what that entailed) but it didn’t quite register why they were looking at her as though she had sprouted a second head.  Oh, as if Loki was the only one who could have an affair?  She fought the urge to roll her eyes.  

Alexei broke the silence as only the idiot could.  “Is there any trouble here, my lords?  Or anything that we can do to help you?”  He asked, smiling as he looked to each of the men.  

“No.”  Thor said, turning to look at Alexei once more.  “We simply wished to thank you for your kindness and hospitality in hosting my brother.  I also speak on behalf of my family when I saythat we would be thrilled to extend an invitation to the wedding of my brother to Sigyn at the end of the week.  It would make our family most happy if you would both attend.”  He nearly stumbled over the word ‘both,’ and though Alexei would never have caught it Nat wasn’t stupid.  They had wanted her--just her--to go to the wedding?  Why?

“Of course.  We would be more than happy to attend.”  It was Alexei that responded first, attempting to take the lead and assert his place as the head of the house.  

‘What an idiot.’

Thor’s smile was genuine as it stretched his face.  “Excellent, we look forward to seeing you there.”  He closed in enough to force Natasha’s heart into her throat and bent to take her hand and kiss the back of it.  When he moved away her cheeks were flushed and he was looking expectantly at Loki, who scowled but moved closer before his brother could chide him further.  Uncharacteristically, the second born tripped over his own feet as he came closer, and one of Nat’s hands reached out to his shoulders to catch him before he could fall completely on her. His hands caught on her hips to straighten himself, and Nat hardly caught the gasp before it left her lips, memories resurfacing with the close contact.  His cheeks were red in his embarrassment and he pulled away from her with disdain.  

“Apologies,” he practically spat, but bent either way and pressed his hand to the back of her hand before pulling away just as swiftly.  

Once he and Thor had crossed back to their horses they were off with hardly so much as another word.  He did, however, lock his eyes onto Natasha’s as he turned his horse around once and then took off in a gallop.  Thor followed after him, and their guards right after.  Once they were out of sight, Natasha pulled herself from Alexei’s grip.  

“What the hell was that all about?” she demanded, glowering.

“You’re my wife; I have a right to hold you close.”  

Like hell he did.  She scoffed and headed inside, already late for getting everything else together.  Steve and his group had left the tavern, having secured rooms for themselves in the palace at the insistence of Thor, and it hit Natasha right then that she missed their company.  She knew it would happen.  At least she might be able to see them at the wedding, she thought as she moved into the kitchen, Alexei carrying the water for her.  How nice of him.  The buckets were set down on the floor just beside the table where she would work, but he didn’t leave after he’d done that.

She turned to him, one eyebrow raised.  “What?”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He asked, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

“No.”  She turned away from him, moving to the basin to wash her hands in the newly drawn water.

“Will you ever?”

“Will I ever, what?”

“Natasha, don’t you use that tone with me.  You know what I’m saying.”  His voice dropped an octave now and without having to turn and look she knew his eyes would be narrowed and his gaze hard.  He seemed to think that was enough to intimidate her into what he wanted simply because it was what had worked for Ivan.  But he wasn’t Ivan, and he never would be.  Not that he could ever understand that.  It didn’t seem to matter how many times she defied him, or ignored him, or even yelled back: he never got the fact that he would never scare her, or intimidate her, or even remotely worry her the way that a single look from Ivan had.  That was just life.  

“No, I don’t, but I’ll tell you what I do know: I have work to do.  Work that does not involve you being in my kitchen, so get out.”  She looked pointedly to the door, then back to him, face set hard as she placed her hands on the corners of the table to stand her ground.  

He hesitated at first, but as ever found himself doing what she told.  His disdain for her commands didn’t go unseen, but he got to work tidying up for later that evening.  There was to be a parade, and a joust later in the afternoon, meaning they were likely to have people trickling in and out.  It was better to be prepared for anything than to be caught unawares, and no matter how frustrated he may have been with Natasha Alexei had a knack for putting business first.  It was one of his better traits, Nat thought as her hands worked the flour into the water, yeast, and honey mixture in front of her.  Perhaps he wouldn’t have been the best partner to go into a business with, let alone marry, but he had moments of helpfulness, and there weren’t many other men (and especially not women) she thought she would have been able to stand working with on a daily basis.  Perhaps Steve.  Perhaps--.  

She slammed her fists on the wood of the table, flour rising like a cloud from the table and covering her apron.  No.  She was turning into one of those women in the crude fairy tales told to the children of the village, the ones who thought of nothing else but their prince or their knight.  Enough time had been wasted on thinking of others, it was high time she put herself first again.  

With that firmly in mind the rest of her day went well enough.  It was quick, to say the least, what with all the activity, and Alexei stayed out of her way, going to try and attract more customers. It seemed to work well enough, and again Nat's haul of the day was greater than she could have expected. It kept her in a good mood, the smiles becoming easier and easier to fake until she’d forgotten about the issues of the past day and the morning.  Alexei let her go without so much of another word after they’d closed up that evening, much to Natasha’s pleasure.  They were already sold out, and she was very much looking forward to getting off of her feet; this was simply the cherry on top.  She nearly kissed his cheek as she left, instead shooting him a rare, real smile to convey her thanks as she hustled up the stairs to her bedroom.  As she made her way to her door she was contemplating putting aside the extra money of the day to go towards the fund to open up a second location, this one nearer to the castle so that she and Alexei could both run their own separate tavern.  Her hand stopped just inches from the door handle, hair standing on end on her body.  There was a sliver of light coming from the crack between the door and the frame.  She was almost positive that she’d shut her door that morning, having locked it with the key that burned in her pocket.  

At least it would have if it was still there.  

Breathing deep she considered what it could be.  There was a chance that one of the patrons had mistaken this room for theirs.  It had happened before, and she was sure that if she shouted again Alexei would hear her.  Or someone would.  She’d probably just left the key in the room, and she’d find it standing just beside the door.  With a shaky breath she pushed the door open, and bit back a scream.  

Loki’s green eyes bored into hers, his feet propped up on the desk just by the door, leaning back in his seat as he observed her.  “Mrs. Romanov,” he murmured, voice quiet.  “Good to see you again.  Please come in and shut the door.”  

“It’s Ms, and like hell I will.”  She backed up, palms sweating as she opened her mouth to shout.  Alexei may have been useless, but the attention would keep Loki from harming her.  She hoped.  

“I am your prince.  You will come in here and speak with me without alerting your husband.”  He spat the final word, eyes flashing.

His order made her stop, words dying on her tongue.  Behind her she could hear the footsteps of her husband as he made his way upstairs.  Loki must have noticed as well as he beckoned her forward.

“Now, or I’ll have you thrown in the stocks for disobeying your sovereign.  They will believe me, and you know they will, over any lies you can come up with.  Now, come in before that oaf gets up here.”

It was impossible to find fault with his words, and with leaden feet she stepped inside her room and shut the door behind her.  Neither one of them locked it.  She moved to stand opposite him, wanting as much space between them as she could.  So much for the peaceful evening she was hoping for.

“How did you get my key?” Natasha had noticed it on the desk beside him as she stood, mouth running dry.  So she had locked the door.  

He gave a quick shrug, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.  “Do you think I am truly clumsy enough to fall by accident?  No, Ms. Romanov, I had set my sights on meeting with you this evening.”

Oh, great.  The thought that he had lifted the key from her pocket so fluidly and discreetly nearly made her tremble.  “Then please tell me how I can help you my prince.” She averted her eyes from his as she dropped into a curtsey. She would keep this all business and hope it deterred him from whatever else his original plan might have been.  

“I’d prefer you to address me as Magnus, as you had when you first met me.”  His voice had softened, mood changing as swiftly as ever.  The floor creaked as he shifted, removing his boots from the desk and turning to face her in his seat.  

“Well, then you should have thought of that before you told me to obey your orders, my prince,” Natasha bit out, trying to keep herself from snorting at the idiocy of his request.  He wanted to go back to when they first met?  That was laughable; he was a prince, with all the duties and responsibilities of one.  To pretend that he was anything but that, well, it just couldn’t happen.  

He was quiet, considering what she’d said, and for some time neither spoke.  Natasha felt her feet crying out at the abuse of standing for longer than she was used to, and she couldn’t bite her tongue for any longer.

“I mean you no disrespect, my prince, but is there anything I can help you with?  I am quite tired and would like to get to bed if you no longer need me.”  She was about to fall off her feet if he didn’t leave soon enough, and perhaps if she didn’t question him he would grow bored and allow her a reprieve for the evening.  It was worth a shot.  

“You are more than welcome to sit,” he offered her.  She chanced a glance up at him.  He was simply sitting opposite her, watching her, and his gaze sent shivers up her spine.  

“Does this mean you have further use of me, my prince?” She asked as she took a seat on the edge of her bed.  With able hand she removed her shoes, hardly containing the groan of pleasure from spilling from her lips.  

“Yes, I do.”

“Might I inquire as to what you could possibly require that others cannot give you?”

“That.”  He was smiling when she looked back at him.  “Aside from my brother there are not many who dare to speak against me.  Even when you are docile and dutiful you have a certain character to you that is quite unique.  Have you always fought back against authority?”  

Oh, this was not a conversation she wanted to have this late at night.  She looked to the window, trying to gauge just what to say to him, particularly how she could give him the quickest answer while still satisfying his curiosity.  She moved to sit back on her bed, smoothing out her skirt.  Not that it really mattered--he’d seen it hiked up around her hips.  She fought back the flush in her cheeks that threatened to rise at the memory.  

“If the prince is looking for a story before bed I am certain there are servants and nurses who could supply you with stories infinitely more interesting than my own.”

“Funny, they seemed to think the same thing when I was growing up.  I always prefered the unconventional, and I am certain that whatever you have to tell me will be infinitely more entertaining.”  Loki shot back without missing so much as a moment.  Damn him.  

“Very well.”  She wetted her lips and turned her gaze down to her hands folded in her lap.  “I grew up with a very oppressive foster father.  Ivan provided me with what I needed, but never considered what I did sufficient for his standards.  I grew to question those standards, and as I grew up and became married I vowed not to trust any other authority other than my own.”  There, how was that for a story?  Loki’s face was contemplative as he turned his own eyes to the trunk just in front of her bed.  

“You were married for some time, then.  How is it that I had not met your husband when I visited the first afternoon?”

“Alexei was gone to pay for more stock as we were running low.”

“Yet you did not tell me you were married.”

“Neither did you.   I don’t think you get the right to speak to me about what was and was not said.  My prince.”  She added the last bit to the end, reminding herself to check what she was saying.  He’d only said that her . . . character was interesting.  Essentially.  He was still the prince, whether or not he wanted her to address him as such.  

His face twisted slightly at her words, contempt curling his lips.  “You think I chose to get married?  Believe me when I tell you I would much rather remain in the shadows, alone, than with . . . her.”  

Natasha tried not to roll her eyes.  Yes, poor baby.  The poor spoiled prince had to get married to someone he didn’t like.  “And you think living in the shadows will help you, what, marry who you want?  I take it back:  you don’t need a nurse to tell you stories, you’ve heard too many as a child.  Now I’m sorry but I must insist: I need sleep.  I will be on my feet all day tomorrow and I require quite a bit of rest or else my business will suffer as a result.”  

But the prince didn’t move.  Fine, then.  She would just fall asleep with him there.  She nestled back against the pillows until her head hit it and closed her eyes.  It hadn’t been a lie when she told him that her business would suffer if she didn’t sleep enough; she was a dreadful person to be around when she was exhausted.  

“You were allowed to,” Loki said, voice quiet.  “Marry who you wished, even if you do not feel the same as you did then.”

Natasha snorted.  “I didn’t.  My foster father chose him for me.”  She opened one eye to stare at him.  “Things are terrible all around, my prince.  At least you have the money to provide you comfort.”

“And at least you have the freedom to separate yourself from your husband.”  

She sighed and pushed herself up on her hands to look at him.  What the hell was he playing at, talking like this?  Didn’t he have better people to speak to about matters like this?  If he was unhappy, certainly he could change it; he had to have the power to.  Or at least find a different princess he would rather be with.  Not to mention he could leave the country whenever he wished and call it all in the name of diplomacy.  If Natasha wanted to leave, well, she would have to fill her pockets with what she could and pray that she never got caught for it.  The law was not kind to thieves, especially when they were women who stole from their husbands.  She closed her eyes.  He didn’t know a damn thing.  

“Natasha.”  His voice was quiet and suddenly much closer, making her snap her eyes open.  She looked hastily outside to discern it was still dark out before she realized that he was suddenly very, very close to her.  She swallowed hard.  

“Yes, my prince?”

His breath was warm against her face as he sat beside her, shifting her legs over so that he could sit beside her.  “I have missed your company.  Would you be so kind as to grace me with it once more this evening?  If I was not your prince--.”

“Don’t say that,” she muttered, pulling away from him.  “You are, and if I do--If I was ever caught.  Your wife alone would murder me.”

“Sigyn would never have to know.”

“And my husband? How am I to explain your sudden interest in the tavern?”

“Since when have you cared what your husband thought?”

Well played.  She stared at him, wetting her lips as she thought it over.  Perhaps it wasn’t an entirely empty proposition.  His gaze turned to stare at her mouth, and when it rose to stare at her once more it was glazed over with the same lust she’d seen the first night they’d had together.  It set the slow burn in her belly up to a boil.  

“Say that I was to accept whatever you are proposing.”  Her voice had dropped an octave or two as her heart fluttered and gained speed.  “What does that entail?”

“I would like to visit you each evening I am available for your company, if you will have me.”  He murmured.  “I will find a messenger who is trustworthy to send to you and confirm when you and I are jointly available.  Then, if you wish it,” he moved closer and pressed his lips just light enough to her throat to make her shiver.  “I would have you in my arms and my bed if you are willing.”  

Oh.  Wow.  He expected her to say no to that?  She swallowed hard and pulled away from his lips, which were doing mischief to her pulse and her stomach.  

“Do you offer this deal to every tavern owner whose room you sneak into?” she teased, blue eyes searching his.  

He smirked and shook his head.  His fingers found her chin and gently he pulled her closer until his lips came to meet hers.  She was barely breathing when he pulled away.  “No.  Only you.”  

Well, she had made a pact to start thinking about what was best for her, and this . . . Loki was definitely good for her, or at the very least he was good for her body.  She reached out a hand to stroke the side of his face, lips curling into a smile.  “Then, my prince, I suppose we have a deal.”  

He grinned and with the lightest of touches he pushed her down onto the bed.  Sleep, she supposed, could be put off for a few more hours.  Just this once.  

 


	5. Chapter 5

They both agreed that evening that it would be best to wait until after the wedding to begin their, well, Nat could only describe it as a tryst. It wouldn't have done either of them any good to draw attention before the wedding, and after they'd finished that evening Loki had promised Natasha that he would be in contact as soon as he could. Before he left he deposited a small purse onto the desk.

"Buy yourself something nice for the wedding?" He suggested with a grin. "I will only have eyes for you."

Natasha couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure I'll find something. Have a good evening, Loki." She murmured though the name felt foreign as all get out. His smile split his lips even wider before he left.

As expected she was dead exhausted by the time she woke up the next day, though she stood by her thought that it was, in the end, worth it, and the purse in her pocket weighed comfortably against her skin.  After she’d finished all the preparations for the evening she took time off to peruse the stores, allowing herself to enjoy the shopping for the first time in years. Ever, once she thought about it. The majority of the shops were empty she was pleased to find, and after speaking with a seamstress deep in the heart of the city she managed to pick out a fabric she wanted (thrilled they had the closest color to what she wanted) and sat there speaking with the woman while it was being sewed. The result was to be a gorgeous emerald green dress with a decent train, a ruched bodice, and a neckline that no married woman would dream of. To hell with propriety; she was hardly married to begin with. Within a few hours she was to return in order for the seamstress to check the fitting, and it would be finished, the woman assured her once more gold was pushed into her hand, by that evening when it would be taken to the tavern.  The woman was discreet enough, bless her, not to ask where the money had come from, and Natasha left the building with an easy smile on her face, an odd peace settling in.  The streets were mostly cleared, and from further down the road she caught the sound of laughter and cries of excitement from the stage and theater that had been set up nearly overnight.  Alexei could hold down the fort for a few more minutes, she decided as she walked towards the noise, stepping slowly up to the back of the crowd.  

On the stage were three players, one female and two male, and the latter were fighting for the affection of the female, who was musing aloud who would win the fight to the delight of the crowd as the men threw punches, flipped over, and pantomimed the struggle in an almost believable fashion.  One of them was even sporting a black eye, though that could have been make-up from where Natasha was standing.  

“I suppose Alexander is the fairer, and the better fighter,” the woman mused, crossing her arms over her chest and looking up into the sky, paying no attention to the two men.  “Yet Peter is the faster and the bigger . . . man.”  Her grin was scandalous, eliciting a roar of laughter from the crowd as her arms unfolded themselves and hands spread further apart, then stopped as the woman blushed.  

“Oh you know what I mean.”  She looked teasingly at the crowd, hands finding her hips as if to chastise their laughter.  

Yes, they certainly did Natasha thought as she allowed herself to laugh along with the crowd.  The masses had pushed closer as the heroine began to confide her dirty secrets about her run ins with both men, and Natasha was about to leave when her eyes caught on those sitting in the constructed seats that rose above the crowds, those specifically set aside for the royals.  Loki was staring at her, the play forgotten, and beside him sat a pale blonde woman, whose attention was rapt as she watched the characters on the stage.  Sigyn couldn’t have cared less for her fiance, but Natasha couldn’t take her eyes away from him.  The corners of his lips quirked up and his eyes flitted from her to the building just to the right of her, then back to her with a cocked eyebrow.  

Oh.  He wanted to . . . right then and there?  What had happened to subtlety?

Oh well.  

Nat’s lips twisted into a wicked grin as she  began to edge around the crowd, catching sight of him shifting in his seat before she turned away.  The building, conveniently, was practically abandoned in favor of the plays just outside and after jiggling the door knob a couple times Natasha managed to open the back door.  

“Well, aren’t you innovative?” A familiar silky voice came from behind her, sending goosebumps up her skin and forcing her lips to part in a wide grin, all teeth.  

“I like to think so,” she teased as she turned to see Loki closing in on her.  Her eyes widened as she took him in.  He was regal, as he should have been, the deep, rich green of his doublet contrasting to the black and gold belt and the black shirt just underneath it.  That was saying nothing of the sinful leather pants he seemed awfully fond of.  

“Do you enjoy what you see?” Loki teased, standing just close enough to touch her.  His hand was cool against the side of her heated face, which only grew hotter in her shame and embarrassment at being caught gawking.  

“I think you know the answer to that,” she murmured as she turned away from him to lead him into the room.  The entire building smelled of bread and tarts, likely belonging to a baker, and Natasha grinned as she opened another door and pulled Loki inside.  There wasn’t a bed in sight, the pair of them having walked into what looked like a very well stocked storage cupboard, but there was a corner dark enough to afford them some privacy.  The door remained cracked open, just as Natasha had found it, allowing a sliver of light so she could find her way.  With nimble hands she turned him around so that his back hit the side of the shelf before she crashed her lips against his, standing on her tiptoes to get a better angle on the situation.  His groan was appreciative as he matched her vigor, hand already palming her breasts through the material of her dress.  She shivered when he reached his hand past the fabric to squeeze her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and pointer finger, before pushing the fabric as far down as possible so he could gain access to the bud with his lips and tongue.  Natasha’s teeth mashed together as she struggled not to scream into the dark room, fingers fisting themselves in his hair.  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest and made her knees go weak before he switched his attention to her other breast.  All the while his hands were finding her skirt and hiking it up past her hips.  She hardly noticed until he’d flipped their positions around, knocking out what little breath was in her lungs and he stared at her.  Even in the dark the hungry expression in his eyes was enough to make swallowing difficult.  

“You are certain?” he growled, biting at her collarbone.  Oh, gods, how could she say no to that?

“Yes,” she whispered, yanking his face up to hers by his hair and kissing him hard again.  He gave an appreciative purr--an actual purr--as her hands released his hair in favor of lowering themselves to the very prominent strain in his pants.  She palmed him through the fabric, delighted as he shuddered underneath her hand.  

“Woman you will be the death of me,” he groaned in her ear, teeth nipping at the earlobe.  That was all the further encouragement she needed, and made short work of freeing him from his trousers.  With strength that was surprising for such a lithe man, he hoisted her up and situated her so she was balanced between the wall and him, his cock pressed just outside her entrance.  Their eyes locked in the near dark and with a low hiss he pulled her onto him until their hips met.  Even biting her tongue wasn’t doing enough to stifle the moan that managed to make it past Natasha’s lips, and they paused with him sheathed inside her so she could adjust once more.   

They made quick work of one another, Nat burying her face in the crook of his neck as she whimpered and clung to him, body rocking with every thrust.  One of his hands found its way between their bodies, finding and rubbing her clit until she thought she was might pass out from pleasure.  Her vision went white and she nearly cried out as she came.  Her whole body spasmed, walls tightening around Loki’s cock and sending him over the edge as well, her name passing his lips in a harsh whisper.  

They didn’t move for some time, detangling only when they absolutely had to, Loki holding Natasha close as she tried to convince her legs to find their strength once more.  The play must have finished recently as there were voices coming from just outside, then footsteps coming near, then the cracked door opened.  Thanking her decision to stay in the small niche where they would still have been out of sight, neither Loki nor Natasha breathed as a man stepped inside, grabbed something from the shelves, and walked back out, shutting the door behind him.  

It was nearly impossible to keep either of them from giggling as they righted themselves, straightening her skirt and pulling his pants back up.  

“Worth it?” Natasha whispered in Loki’s ear, and he affirmed it with a quick kiss and a grab of her rear.  

“Absolutely.”

They managed to sneak out of the storage room by the skin of their teeth, picking the perfect time as the baker’s back was to them, and it was still empty of customers.  The man gave a start when he saw Loki perusing the wares halfway to the door, while Natasha kept her distance and stayed at the back.  They shared one quick look and a secretive smile before Loki walked out.  The baker called out a goodbye, face draining of hope once Loki stepped further away.  Natasha waited a few minutes before purchasing a tart and disappearing out the door as well.  She caught sight of Loki finding Thor and clapping the man on the back, a wide grin on his face as the two talked, before the blonde woman that had sat beside him came up to his elbow and took his hand in hers.  It was plain to see he despised Sigyn; his body stiffened and he shied away from her touch entirely, though he was well schooled on keeping his face blank.  

The poor bastard.

Without so much as another look at him Natasha made her way back to the dress shop, ran through the fitting once more (and the dress was looking stunning already), and returned to her house in a remarkably good mood.  The gown  would be dropped off later that evening before they closed.

“Where the hell have you been?”  Alexei was never one to believe in beating around the bush, but the anger in his eyes and voice took her off guard when she stepped through the doorway.  

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, looking around.  It was mostly filled, to her surprise. They weren’t supposed to be so busy.

“I have been running back and forth all day--all by myself!--while you had the day off.  That hardly seems fair, wife.”  He snarled.  One of his hands shot out to grab her by the hair, but years of avoiding the same treatment from her foster father kept her faster than him, allowing her to duck out from under him and step backwards to keep out of range.  

“Do not touch me,” she growled, lips pulled backwards in a snarl and her hands fisted at her side.  “Now you understand what I do on a daily basis without any sort of help.  Learn how to deal with it.”  

His hand cracked against her face before she could register that he’d actually done it.  He’d hit her.  The sound didn’t even register to their patrons, all too used to the sound of violence or else too engaged in their own conversations to care.  Natasha managed to keep her hand from flying to her face, where her cheek was twinging with pain, and her gaze remained locked on Alexei.  The fury seemed to be leaving his body and his own horror at what he’d done had set in.

“Natasha--.”

“Don’t say my name.”  She hissed, turning away to move behind the bar.  He didn’t get to talk to her, not any more, and certainly not today.  Not after hitting her.  There was much that she could deal with: the cheating, the lying, the whining, and the uselessness were all to be expected.  She’d gotten used to them, and had moved on, after all.  But hitting her?  No man had struck her since Ivan had passed away, not even the patrons that cursed and belittled her for cutting them off or throwing them out when they became too rowdy.  She might not have had the highest of expectations of Alexei, but now?  

She threw herself into her work, ignoring any and all attempts her partner made at reconciliation.  After all, she hadn’t been there all day, so obviously she owed it to him to pick up the slack, right?  The indignation at his accusations burned in her stomach and though she tried to keep it from affecting her work she couldn’t stop the acid that laced her words, or the foreign forcefulness behind her actions as she refilled and slammed mugs down on the tables and bar with more force than strictly necessary.  Needless to say her tips weren’t nearly as good as they had been, and the hall had cleared out sooner than it had the previous nights.  Alexei was behind the bar as Nat got ready to close up, going quickly through the motions of cleaning, rearranging the upset furniture, and was just about to put out the torches when there was a loud knock at the door.  Natasha’s heart leapt into her throat.  There was no way that Loki--.  No.  It couldn’t have been him.  

Alexei was nearest and opened the door with a mild smile.  A young man stood in front of him, asking for Natasha with a deep green dress cradled in his arms.  Well, she supposed that was the second best option.  With quick feet Nat stepped forward, smiling and accepting the dress from the man with an exuberant thank-you and a spare gold piece before she shut the door.  Alexei’s eyes fell on the dress, confused.

“Where did you come up with the money to pay for that?”

And just like that her glee shattered.  “It’s none of your bloody business,” she growled, blue eyes sharp as broken glass when they stared up at Alexei.

“You know we can’t afford that.”

“It didn’t come from the till.  Check your records.”  She spat, holding the dress close to her.  “I’m going to bed.”

“Natasha--I’m sorry--.”

“No.  You don’t get to apologize to me, Alexei.  You did it, so you better damn own up for your actions.”  She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from telling him exactly where he could stick his apologies.

He reached out once to stop her from leaving, and out of instinct she shied away from his touch.  That seemed to floor him, and she caught his eyes going wide when she looked back to shoot him a contemptuous glance  What had he expected?  With quiet feet she made it upstairs and closed herself in her room.  Eager to distract herself she set to work trying to lighten her heart by staring at the dress--no, the gown--she had in her hands.  With careful fingers she laid it over the desk chair, fingers dragging gently over the fabric.  It was so soft she thought it might disintegrate beneath her fingertips, and the color was (as she’d hoped) the same hue of green Loki seemed to favor.  Thought it might have called out more attention than was strictly necessary any other day, she was almost certain that it would be commonplace during the festivities.  Even the pain in her cheek was forgotten as she took in the dress in its entirety, and though she was sorely tempted to try it on it would have to wait until the next day.  She didn’t want to chance it getting ripped or dirty before the ceremony; everything had to be perfect.  

* * *

Perfection was the last thing on her mind, as it turned out, when the day of the wedding finally came, her stomach already twisted into knots so complicated it would be near impossible to sort them out.  Grudgingly she’d allowed Alexei to accompany her to the wedding, the man having reminded her that they’d both been invited, and surely it was wisest not to go against what the crown prince was saying.  She didn’t want to bring up how Thor had hesitated over the word ‘both,’ but it would only lead to a fight.  The last thing she wanted was to get flustered and angry in her new dress.  

She drew solace from the soft material, and hadn’t been able to help herself from grinning when the eyes of every man who to came to their tavern widened as she stepped down to the first floor, the heels of her shoes clicking lightly on the wooden steps.  Alexei’s mouth dropped open in pure shock, and there were a few whistles from those who had congregated.  

“Alexei, we would’ve come here more often if we knew your wife looked like that,” one of the men called out with a smattering of laughter following.  Nat had to keep from rolling her eyes.  To his credit Alexei didn’t say a word, just offered her his arm.  She walked past it, however, holding up the hem of her dress and leaving Alexei to the laughter and catcalls of the men she was leaving.  Yelena was put in charge against Natasha’s best judgement, and the blonde girl watched Alexei leave with wide, hungry eyes that made Nat want to laugh.  As far as she was concerned, the wench could have him.  He wasn’t exactly a great catch.  

“I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t embarrass me today,” Alexei hissed in Natasha’s ear as they stepped into the coach that had been sent ahead from the palace.

“Then don’t act like an idiot,” she growled back.  “And I won’t have to treat you like one.”

They didn’t speak for the rest of the trip, Alexei practically red in the face from his contained anger while Nat’s eyes simply followed the passing scenery.  It wasn’t that it their tavern was a far distance from the castle, and they could have walked if they needed to, but she wasn’t about to pass up hospitality when it was offered to her.  Not to mention there were few others that were walking, and she didn’t need any help looking out of place.  

As expected there were carriages and coaches lined up around the entrance of the castle, allowing the pair to blend in as best as possible.  Nat was thrilled to see that her dress wasn’t entirely out of place as plenty other women wore the same color, though she was right in having assumed her more revealing bustline would be scandalous, but frankly?  She had more to offer than over half of these women, so unless she decided to cover herself up to her neck she wasn’t sure it would have made such a big difference.  It wasn’t as if the corset helped her out at all, either.  At least the men were appreciative of the view, and she hoped Loki would be as well when he saw her.  If he saw her.  

They’d arrived quite late, late enough for them to have to take a seat near the very back of the enormous church.  In the flurry of action Natasha took a moment to look around, doing her best not to gape at the grandeur.  Nearly everything was painted gold, from the highest of steeples to the cracks in the ancient walls.  The windows were vast stained-glass scenes of the battles that made the royal family infamous, or else gorgeous pastorals; the sun caught the jeweled glass and sent the colors through the room, a rainbow falling on nearly every inch of the golden walls.

At the front sat the king and queen, watching from behind where the priest stood. The old man was reading from a book, while the two monarchs talked quietly behind them, sharing smiles and squeezing one another’s hands. They were a paradigm of a happy marriage, and it brought a smile to Nat’s lips.  No wonder Loki had such high expectations of marriage if he’d grown up with these two.  She was about to keep looking around, still dazed at the luxury of the building, when someone came up and tapped her on the back. She spun in surprise and the guard there simply smiled.

"Natasha Romanov?"

"Yes that's me"

"Come with me, please." The man shot a look at Alexei that clearly warned him against following, and any protests that her husband might have had were swallowed. Nat nodded and swallowed hard as she stepped from the row she had been sitting in, but rather than take her away she was brought further up and into the crowd so her her new seat was only a few rows away from the platform on the groom’s side. She felt eyes following her and wasn't surprised to see many of the high born ladies gaping at her, scandalized not only by her presence but her apparent disregard for what they considered proper and acceptable fashion.

‘So much for being discreet, Loki.’

A hush fell over the room as the doors to the side of the stage opened, and in trooped said man, his brother, and a mixture of Thor’s friends and other men she was unfamiliar with, none of which seemed too keen to speak with Loki.  Natasha managed to catch Steve’s eye as he looked over the guests and he shot her a surprised, but pleased, smile that she was more than happy to return.  It was good to see him again, all things considered.  He had been the one, after all, who’d saved her from a volatile Magnus.  Now?  Well, it had only gotten more confusing, but it wasn’t as though he needed to know it.  She felt another pair of eyes staring at her, and as she looked down the line it was Loki whose gaze had focused on her.  Heat rose in her cheeks and she was sure her face very nearly turned the color of her hair under the heat of his gaze.  One delicate eyebrow of his was raised as his eyes flitted up and down her body.  She simply gave him the most demure smile she could manage, inwardly thrilled she hadn’t disappointed him.  Thor caught his attention for a moment, forcing the two to break their connection, and Nat turned her attention to the floor beneath her, wringing her hands in her lap.  

“Excuse me,” a quiet voice said from her left, and Natasha looked up to see another woman smiling down at her.  Her strawberry-blonde hair was piled atop her head in an elegant knot and her deep red dress was striking enough to make Natasha very near like her already.  “Natasha?”

Oh.  She knew her?  “Yes?” She asked, schooling her face into an easy smile as the new woman took a seat beside her.

“My name is Virginia; my husband is Tony up there, and he told me to come and keep you company.”  Natasha followed where Virginia’s finger dictated, and felt her stomach drop as she recognized which Tony the new woman was married to.  Awkward.  

“A pleasure to meet you,” Nat said, laying on the charm.  “I, ah, know your husband.”

“Yes, he said that you were able to help him when he was staying at the tavern.”  The woman’s eyes told Natasha that Tony was not exactly discreet, and the tavern owner thought she was going to be sick.  Rather than get angry, however, Virginia simply laughed.  “Oh, don’t be afraid of me, please.  Tony has a difficulty with staying wholly faithful when he is away, but he always comes back to me.  Please, I am not here to start drama; Tony hinted that you would be needing a companion.  It was a terrible position for Prince Loki to put you in, after all, but to force your attendance here as well?  He can be so thoughtless, and we had hoped that if you had a friendly face you might be able to enjoy yourself more.”  

Well that had been much better than she’d expected.  Nodding, Natasha allowed Virginia to take her hand and squeeze it gently, the woman providing an endless amount of chatter that helped to keep them both preoccupied while they waited.  It was a blessing to not have to think, to simply sit there and nod when Virginia prompted her for a response, or else hum sympathetically when the woman complained about her husband’s absence for business.  By the time the ceremony started Natasha had learned much about the woman’s homelife, her absentee father, how she’d worked nearly every day in order to help her mother afford the estate, and her luck at Tony having taken a liking to her despite a lack of a proper dowry.  Virginia thought herself very much blessed, and had just gotten around to asking Natasha about her business when everything around them grew silent.  

Music began to float through the vast building and all attention turned to the back of the cathedral as the huge doors opened.  The procession started slowly, a line of women moving down the aisle to the speed of the music until only two figures remained: the bride, whose face was veiled and whose train had to be carried behind her by two young children, and who must’ve been her father, clutching tight to her arm as though he was afraid he might fall over.  Sigyn’s smile practically radiated through the veil, and Natasha found she couldn’t look at the bride for much longer without feeling incredibly uncomfortable.  After all she’d slept with this woman’s would-be husband.  Three times.  Instead she turned her focus to the front, where Loki’s face was drained of emotion, eyes practically dead as he watched his future wife step closer to him.  She must have been truly awful to have made him so unhappy, or perhaps the idea of marriage was what angered him so much, though with parents such as those he had she found it difficult to believe.  It was a conversation perhaps they’d have one day, but for then Natasha allowed herself to focus on the now quieting music as Sigyn reached and was presented to Loki.  She was lovely, Natasha found, and she practically glowed as she stared up at Loki.  Nothing in the prince changed as he reached forward to take her hands in his, choosing to stare past her head rather than look at her.  

The ceremony lasted for what felt like hours, the priest’s voice droning on and on as Natasha shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  When she and Alexei had gotten married it had lasted perhaps half an hour, but this?  This was torture of the cruelest form; every shift she made was greeted with a glare or a titter of disapproval, as every rustle of her gown was broadcasting her low-born status.  When it was finally over, and the couple were allowed to kiss, Natasha watched as Loki leaned forward to quickly press his lips against Sigyn’s, then turned away.  Hardly a real kiss, and she knew that he was talented enough to have made it enjoyable if he wanted it.  A sense of triumph blossomed in her chest at that thought, and she rose with the rest of the crowd and applauded as the newly married couple began their descent from the platform and towards the door Natasha could only assume would lead to a reception hall.  Loki’s eyes caught on hers once more before he made it was down the aisle, and it wasn’t just Virginia who caught the exchange between the two.  Everyone seemed to be inadvertently staring at her after the two passed, and it wasn’t long until the whispers and hisses began all around.  Natasha could do nothing more than grit her teeth and ignore them.  Not like it was any of their business.  But it was Sigyn’s burning glare as she’d followed her husband’s gaze that had been enough to make Natasha’s skin crawl, and the idea of going about this affair without attracting attention seemed more impossible than ever.

 


	6. Chapter 6

After most of the crowds had passed Virginia was kind enough to walk with Natasha to the reception hall.  It was as grand as the cathedral, Natasha was amazed to find, decked in the gold that the royal family seemed to have in spades and set up to hold what looked like more than had filled the cathedral.  Food was already being laid out by servants, and the main tables groaned under the weight of all the suckling pigs, roasted chickens, cities of vegetables and fruits, and seemingly endless kegs of ale, wine, and whatever else the family could afford Natasha assumed.  Alexei was nowhere in sight, likely having gotten lost in the crowd, and she couldn’t have been more pleased to find herself sitting between Virginia and Steve once the strawberry-blonde had managed to maneuver their way through the teaming groups of people, all of which seemed determined to make their path as difficult as possible.  Never before had Nat gotten shoved, trodden on, or downright glared at in her life, and she worked at a tavern.  Whoever said the high borns oozed class was clearly mistaken.  

Steve was more than kind when it came to engaging Natasha in immediate conversation, complimenting her on her dress and how lovely she looked.  It brought a small blush to Nat’s cheeks as she stared down at her plate.  Gold, of course.  “You are too sweet,” she complimented, playing coy as she tried to cool her face down.  

“I am not, I promise.”  His laugh was quiet, a private matter between the two of them, as he leaned in.  “And I am glad to see that Loki’s actions were not enough to scare you away, no matter how odd he may be.  I confess to being thrilled that you are here.”

She looked at him from under her eyelashes.  “You are?”  Oh, where had he been years ago?  Especially if he was going to be this dashing and sweet about it.  He must have known she didn’t give a damn about her marriage, and well, at least he seemed to feel the same.  They talked for some time more as the rest of the wedding guests situated themselves amongst the tables.  As Natasha looked around she was thrilled to see that, somehow or other, Alexei had either gotten lost or gotten himself removed from the wedding party.  If she was honest with herself she imagined it would be the latter; the princes hadn’t seemed too enthusiastic to have him there, and it would have been perfectly within his right for Loki to tell a guard to remove him once the ceremony was over.  The idea only filled her with more glee, taking a deep drink from her goblet that had just been filled.  Wine, a delicious vintage.  Loki was really quite good at this.

“So, how have you been doing at the tavern?”  Steve asked.  “Your husband isn’t giving you too much trouble is he, about the whole Loki situation?  Thor told me that he was there when you were invited to the wedding.”

Natasha shrugged.  She didn’t really want to talk about Alexei if she could help it.  “He’s always been a jealous person, but he didn’t need to know the details of what had happened.  He would feel as though we were owed something, and I just want to get everything behind me.”

Steve nodded his understanding.  His hand moved over to take hers and squeezed.  “I don’t blame you, but at least you won’t have to worry about Loki after this.  He’s been told to leave you alone, and even though he didn’t seem to get the message I’m sure that Thor will make sure he sticks to it.”

Oh if only he knew, Natasha thought as she took a deep drink from her goblet.  She didn’t want Loki to leave her alone, not really.  Even if he had scared her before, he more than made up for it now.  And yet there was still something nagging at her in the back of her mind.  “Steve,” she murmured, drawing her lips closer to his ear to talk so that they might not be overheard.  She trusted Virginia, who was deep in conversation with Tony, but she wasn’t too sure about anyone else at their table, or around them for that matter.  “You told me before to be wary of him.  Say that I did see him again, or did have to meet with him once more.  What should I be afraid of?” She asked.  “What has he done to garner such a terrible reputation?”

Steve’s eyes were wide when she pulled away from him, his gaze curious and concerned at the same time.  It was obvious he was trying to run through the scenarios that would force the two of them to come into contact once more, but before he could say another word their attention was drawn to the table at the front of the room, where the royal family and Sigyn were now being seated.  Loki looked as if he wished to be anywhere else but there, which had not gone unseen by any of the other guests judging by the continuous whispers that refused to be silenced.  Why was he being so obvious?

The toasts poured in from all corners of the room, from Thor, who confessed to “never seeing his brother so happy before in his life” (this was met with titters and soft, stifled chuckles), to Sigyn’s parents, who wished to thank the royal family for such a lovely wedding, and they were so glad that their daughter was “graciously welcomed into their family.”  Again, the crowd could hardly keep their laughter from spilling past their mouths.  Natasha simply smirked, her eyes stuck on Loki’s.  He stared back without shame until Thor nudged him, hard by the way he winced, shortly after.  He was expected to say a few words, of course, though by the looks of it it was going to take more than just his duty to make him do what he didn’t want to.  

“Brother.  Now.”  Natasha could hear Thor hiss, leading his brother to glower but stood up anyway.  She had a feeling that even Loki knew he couldn’t avoid that custom, no matter how much he wanted to.  

His movements were jerky as he looked over at his wife, then back out at the crowd.  His smile couldn’t have been any more fake, though Nat was sure he could fake much better, and he took a deep drink from his goblet before speaking.  If only it would kick in in time; she couldn’t blame wanting to be nice and liquored up for this.  

“Well, thank you all for coming.  And thanks for all the well wishes everyone.  We are so, so happy to be finally married.”  Though he sounded anything but, and he didn’t bother trying to hide it.  When Natasha turned her head to look at Sigyn’s family once more they looked absolutely livid.  :Loki plowed on anyway.  “And let me just say it is an honor to have all of you here and I hope to see you all quite a bit more.”  His eyes flickered over to where Natasha was sitting, and she flushed and turned away.  What was it he had said about trying to be discreet?  He was doing nothing of the sort, the little hypocrite, though she was secretly pleased.  She wasn’t about to deny that, even though she knew he hated his wife, it was still a huge confidence boost to know that the prince prefered her to some high-born brat.  Her.  A common, low-born, tavern owner.  Her lips curled into a smile when she looked back up at Loki, who’d turned to stare at his brother as if to ask if that was enough.  Thor was shaking his head, running a hand through his long blond hair.  This was a disaster, everyone knew, but the damage had been done.  They were simply be left with damage control once it was all over and done with.  Without anything else to say Loki simply raised his glass then downed the rest of it.  “Yep.  Thanks for coming everyone.”  He sat back down with a chuckle that no one joined in on.  Nat couldn’t even look at the king and queen, sure that the pair of them were livid with their son for causing so many problems on what should have been a relatively easy day.  

“Well, he’s certainly just agreed to being the prince of Asgard forever,” Steve murmured.  “There is no way that Odin would ever make him king, now.  Not even if Thor were to be ineligible for whatever the reason.”

“Just because he voiced his opinion?”

“He’s humiliated them all, called them all out on the fact that he does not want this, and now that all the royal and noble families have seen it, well, it’s simply never been done before.  So Odin would not risk further shame to his family name by allowing his youngest to have control over the kingdom, especially if he is this impulsive.”  Steve sighed and looked down at the table cloth, his gaze distant.  Natasha’s hand moved to cover his.  

“Are you okay?” She asked, genuine concern etched on her face.  He caught it when he looked up, and his focus returned along with his usual cheery smile.  

“Yes, I am well.  Simply worried for Thor.  He takes much of the burden of Loki on himself.  When Loki came to apologize to you for what had happened?  That was only done at Thor’s prompting and forcing.”  

Somehow Natasha doubted that but she wasn’t about to refute it out loud.  “It was very kind of him.”

“Yes, but if Loki had any sense of propriety or doing what was right he would not have needed to have been forced.”  Steve’s expression darkened for a brief moment, surprising Natasha.  She hadn’t even been sure he was capable of full on anger until this point.  

“Steve, why does it bother you so much?” Nat asked after some time, her voice quiet.  

“Because he does not deserve the power that he will be given, even as prince, and he certainly did not deserve to have your company, or force his own upon you.  He infuriates me, gets under my skin--it is simply everything about him.”  His voice had turned into a growl, his eyes transformed into slits as they glared murderously at the table.

“I think you’re beginning to frighten the table cloth,” Natasha teased after some time.  It broke the moment, allowed Steve to snap out of his reverie, and with a self-deprecating chuckle he looked back at her.  

“I am sorry.  I do not mean to keep returning to this subject.”

Nat waved away his apology.  “I asked; it is none of your fault, I assure you.”  She smiled and kissed his cheek.  There was a bit of an awkward pause between them at that point, during which Natasha turned back to Virginia to keep talking.  Their chatter was infinitely more superficial, based around what the queen was wearing, how lovely the other gowns were.  Virginia offered Natasha a place to stay if she ever wanted to visit them in their manor, and while the idea was tempting Natasha had a feeling that it would never happen.  There was no possible scenario that she could think of where she could get away with taking that much time off, not unless they managed to strike it rich.  She nearly laughed at that idea . No way was that in the future for them.  

They were fed shortly afterwards, the servants finally offering the royal family the first cuts, then coming around to serve all the others.  This was followed by more toasts, all demanding for the newly wed couple to kiss.  Sigyn now seemed to share in her husband’s disdain not only for the ceremony and force of the onlookers, but Loki positively glowered.  It was almost as though they were doing it intentionally, just to see how far they could push the couple, as Loki would have to be a monumental idiot to call any of them out in public for what they were doing.  The prince, instead, had to keep his mouth shut and endure.  

When dinner was done Natasha had had, perhaps, more wine than she should have.  She was proud to say that she was still very much in control of herself, but the room had seemed to get a little warmer, and she could hear her heart in her ears without a problem at all.  Well, it wasn’t a problem until Steve started talking to her.  She simply nodded to show that she agreed with, well, whatever he said (because he was Steve and he would never lead her astray) when he took her hand and gently lifted her up.  With sure feet he pulled her towards what had been set up to be a dance floor.  She hadn’t even noticed that a musical group had piled into one of the corners and that they’d been playing music for . . . well, however long they’d been playing.  She giggled.  Oh, they were going to dance?  She loved to dance.  Despite the liquor making its way through her veins she managed to stay on her feet the whole time, and Steve was an excellent partner, smiling down at her.  

“You never answered my question!”  Natasha said after Steve had spun her out, then pulled her back into his arms.  She grinned and nearly tripped over her feet, her hand hitting his chest to keep herself from careening into him full-force.  Not like it would have really done anything, she was sure.  He was hard as a rock, after all.  Well, not that way.  

“About?”

“About why you warned me about L--.”

He hushed her, blue eyes searching around them.  There were other couples that had taken to the floor as well, some of which were within a decent range. Steve took it upon himself to pull them towards a neglected corner of the dance floor.  “You are going to need to control your voice, Natasha, if I’m going to tell you a story.”  His tone was only half teasing as he spun her around gently before holding her to him again.  

“Sorry,” she whispered before dissolving into giggles.  Why was it funny?  She had no idea.

He sighed.  “Perhaps this would better be a conversation had when you were sober?”

“But I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.”  Her wide eyes met his, practically begging him for the truth.  She didn’t want him to leave, but more than that she didn’t want him to leave without ever having told her the truth.  It wasn’t her damn fault she was so curious all the time, especially when he dangled that kind of hint in front of her.  She always knew that he never trusted Loki, and now that she had the possible answer in front of her she’d be damned if she let it get away, inebriated or not.  

A slow sigh left Steve’s lips, holding Natasha against him as he bent down slightly so he could murmur closer to her ear, his voice so low she might have missed it if she didn’t concentrate.  “Well, I told you he is a sadist.  Thor has told me of the few times he had been reprimanded for abusing maids on more than one occasion, some within the bedroom, some outside.  He seems to have had a proclivity for blood, and more than once Thor caught him looking at books about dark magic.”  Steve swallowed audibly, his fear echoed by the increasing speed of Natasha’s heartbeat.  But Loki had been nothing but gentle with her, at least for the most part.  Perhaps he had grown out of it?  She brought that up, staring up at him, hoping that she could read the agreement on his face.  He simply shook his head.  

“It was only a few years ago that he was caught, and since then he has become infinitely more devious and secretive.  Even now Thor knows not where he goes most nights, but he comes back with the queerest of smiles on his face.  As I told you: I worry for you, or any who cross him.  I shudder to think what he might do to you if he is allowed.  I begged Thor not to force you to come here; I thought it was a ploy by Loki to get you alone.”  

She tried to reassure him by running her hand up and down his arm, the hurt and worry on his face making her heart crack. “He has not been aggressive to me yet.”

“No, but he has been fixated on you since you have gotten here.”  

He had a point, and suddenly what Natasha had thought was a fun game between herself and Loki felt much more dangerous.  Chills found their way up her spine, and she did her best to disguise her shiver with a shake of her head.  

“I am sure now that he is married he will stop these occult tendencies.”  

“Or he’ll find a new victim since he cannot do it to his wife.”  

Okay, now he was just scaring her.  She pulled away from his hold to stare up at him, her brow furrowed and her arms wrapping around her chest.  This was becoming too terrifying, turning her blood cold as she thought it over.  Perhaps she should have refused his advances?  She might have been safer if she did.  There was still time, she supposed.  He hadn’t tried to hurt her yet.  Sure their couplings could be a little on the rough side, but it was not as if they had all the time in the world to have it their way or where they wanted.  Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.  

“You said also that humor is . . . ill fitting.  How so?”

Steve didn’t meet her eyes, expression a mixture between exasperated and trying to search for words as they swayed on the spot.  

“He enjoys tricks.  Not the simple kind of tricks that everyone can enjoy, but a more nefarious sort.  The sort that hurt people.  Deeply.”  

“Has he done them to you?”

“To me?  No.  To Thor, to the men and women that work in the palace?  Yes.  No he puts on his best face for the gusts and the newcomers.  Only those that know him or can do nothing against him are at risk.”

Well that definitely meant her.  She pulled away for a moment to put a hand to her stomach, feeling it rebel against the wine and the decadent food that had been provided.  If she didn’t remove herself from the dance floor that moment she would embarrass herself, she knew it.  

“Excuse me, Steve,” she whispered before heading away.  The doors to the church were open, and even in the dark she noticed that it was as lovely as ever, even as she ran through the room to make it back to the doors she’d come in on.  There were no others out there, but to be certain she moved behind a tall collection of bushes to huddle behind before she pulled her skirt up and bent over to let her stomach empty itself on the grass.  With her meal went her slight buzz, which only depressed her further as she considered Steve’s words.  

How much was true?

A voice cleared itself a few minutes later from behind her, and quickly Natasha turned.  Loki stood in front of her, concerned.  “What is wrong?  Are you sick?”

Nat breathed deep, holding her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see her shaking.  She shook her head.  “No.  I want to talk to you.”

“Okay, come back inside with me.”

“No, here.   You want me to ask here, trust me.”  

“Natasha, what did Rogers tell you?”

And she recounted exactly what Steve had said, hating that her voice shook as she explained everything.  She could hardly stand near him, and she blamed the alcohol for leaving her trembling as what was left of her buzz faded away.  Loki didn’t say a word as she went through the story, and when she finished she was practically gasping for breath as she watched him.  He stepped a little closer to her but she maintained the distance as best she could.

“Is it true?”

“Natasha--.”

“No.  Tell me now--I’ve never asked you for anything else.  Please.”

Loki was silent for some time, eyes closing as he rubbed them, cursing under his breath.  

“Natasha, do you really want to know?” he asked, very quiet this time around.  His voice sounded dangerous, terrifying, as if he were doing his damn best to keep his temper under control.  She was thankful for it, but it simply solidified why she should not have been there.  Not at all.

“Goodbye Loki,” she murmured.  She deserved to know, she told herself, as she turned to head out.  He reached out to grab her but she struck him, hard, against the face.  “No!  Leave me alone, Loki!”  She yelled, “This isn’t going to work--just stop.  Just.  Stop.  Stop pretending, and stop lying to me.  If you want someone to lie to find a different whore.”  She spat, hiking her skirts up so she could start to run.  He let her go without so much as another word.  

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize because this chapter has been unbeta'd, and I also struggled to write this monster. Silly characterization taking place of action.   
> I hope you like it none the less, and I apologize also for the wait between chapters.

Natasha did her best to keep her head down after that, returning to her tavern and stowing away the dress.  It had been fun while it lasted but there was no point in pretending anything else was going to come of it.  It was over, and she was likely the better off for it.  At least that was what she told herself; it helped with keeping her chin up.  Three days after Steve paid her a visit before he left for his own land.  It had been a rather slow day, and Alexei was smart enough to keep out of the way when Steve asked to see Nat.  He was directed to the kitchen and Nat had jumped when he started speaking, spilling flour all over herself.  Damn.  Steve’s lips were pulled upwards in an apologetic smile.  

“Sorry,” he muttered.  “I was just coming to say that I was going to be off soon.”  

“Oh.”  What else was there to say to that?  With the back of her hand she pushed a strand of hair from her eyes.  “Well, thank you for everything.  Sorry I left so early the other day but . . .”

He waved away her excuse, likely having heard a watered down explanation for her absence.  They stood there for a few more moments, Natasha’s eyes flitting from the dough on the table to Steve.  Why was he there, really?  If he wanted to say goodbye he would have called her out, not came to see her.  

Almost as if he’d sensed her confusion Steve gave a nervous smile and a cough.  “I, ah, am having a gala in about three weeks time to celebrate the autumn.  The group of men that I have been staying with, we rotate between whose place is used for the celebration and it was my turn this year.  I was wondering, if you could spare the time, if you would like to come and visit?”

Nat faltered, not having expected that.  She was being invited to another social gathering after what had just happened?  Was he serious?  “I am, ah, not quite sure why, after what just happened,” she waved one of her hands as if to call attention to how she looked right then, covered in flour and disheveled, and not to mention she’d made an idiot of herself the other night, too.  

Steve just laughed.  “Natasha no one else is going to really know you there except for Tony, Virginia, Bruce, and Clint, and none of them will judge you.  Trust me, the first time Clint and Loki met, Clint put an arrow through Loki’s hand.  They brushed it off as an accident but there’s no love lost between the others and the newly married prince.  His behavior only solidified that.”  Steve’s voice had trailed off a little but he was back to his normal chipper self in a moment.  “It would honor me if you could make it, and you are more than welcome to stay as long as you can get away with..”

“When is it?” Natasha asked after a moments hesitation.  As he’d said before it was nearly three weeks away, and smack dab in the middle of their slower season.  Not much reason for a tavern when most of their customers were at their own hearths, coveting their coins as well as their food supplies.  It made sense, and she knew Alexei would not dare oppose her decision.  Sure, he’d huff and puff but in the end he’d give in.  He always did.  

She allowed herself a smile, a genuine one.  “Alright.  I’ll be there.”  How could she say no to that smile?  It was second only to the one that he was giving her now, and he bowed his head before leaving.  There were roads that she would be able to take that would lead right from their town to his, and it would take about three days so she had plenty of time to still prepare.  

“Natasha?” He called back to her, halfway out of the kitchen.  She looked up from where she was working.  “Thank you for coming.”

She just smiled and nodded.  “I would not dare miss it, Steve.”  And it was to her complete surprise that there was honesty deep enough in her words.  He left shortly after that, tipping Alexei for his time and vanishing out the door.  Nat watched him go on his horse, pausing in her work.  Not for the first time did she think it was a pity she was already married; not that Steve would ever marry her.  Of course not.  The thought put a laugh in her throat and a weight in her belly.  He’d be married off to a high class lady without a doubt, whether or not he liked it.  There was no sense in staying single when he had property that would have to be passed down.  

She wasn’t proud to admit that she thought it over all day, her mind constantly going back to whether or not she should even go.  She thought she owed it to herself, another evening off of work, away from Alexei, but the last time she’d done that . . . well, it hadn’t exactly ended well.  She broke the news to Alexei nonetheless, telling him that she was going to be leaving within the next few weeks.  

“You’ll have Yelena to help you--you don’t need me,” she reminded him when he threw a fit about having to do all the work himself.  His momentary grin was enough to tell her that he’d not thought about that, not surprising, and she left him with the smile on his face.  Disgusting.  

There were a few things waiting for her on her bed when she got up to her room, and in the back of her mind she remembered Alexei asking permission to leave a parcel that had been delivered while she was waiting on customers.  She’d pressed the key into his hand and accepted it back with a ‘thank-you’ when he’d returned it.  So this was what it had been.  A small bouquet of flowers, now slightly wilted from not being put in water, and a letter addressed to her.  She didn’t recognize the elegant scrawl, though she had an idea who it might have been from.  With a scowl on her face she opened it and a small crest tumbled onto the bed.  The crest of the royal family.  She knew it.  

****

Natasha,

I feel as if we left on odd terms the last time we met and I wish to rectify this immediately.  Please show this crest to any of the guards within the castle and they will know what it means; it is a summons that will take you to me without the knowledge of the others.  You addressed many rumors you have heard about me and I wish to give you an explanation myself.  Please.  I wish to see you again.  

****

Yours,

Loki Odinson

****

She read it over several times, scowling each time.  He thought he could just send her some flowers and a letter and everything would be alright again?  She supposed she wanted to hear his side of the story, but the fact that he hadn’t denied it when she’d accused him of . . . what Steve had told her was not comforting.  Truth be told, she didn’t want to know the truth, didn’t know if she could stomach it.  It had to have been gruesome if Steve was willing to tell her and betray Thor’s confidence in him. With shaking hands she shredded the note and was on her way to throwing it in the bin when a voice made her jump and nearly shriek.  

“I should have known that you would not have taken it.”  Loki stepped from her closet where he’d been hiding since . . . she didn’t want to know when.  Or why Alexei had allowed him to stay.  That son of a bitch.

“Get out of my room,” she growled, backing up to her door and throwing it open.  Loki stepped closer, pulling his hood down from his head to reveal himself to her.  He looked as if he hadn’t slept for some time, not that Natasha cared.  She told herself she didn’t care.  

“Now, Natasha is that really the way you should speak to your prince?”

“Funny, you told me you didn’t want me to treat you like you were above me, and yet you keep bringing up our class differences.  Which is it, Loki?  You cannot have it both ways.”  She growled, looking pointedly from the door to the man in front of her.  He closed the door.  

“Hear me out, that’s all I am asking.”

“And I already said no, I don’t want to.  Unless you are going to decree it--.”  
“What if I am?”  
She stopped and glared for a moment before forcing herself into a curtsey.  “Then please, my prince, I beg of you to sit.  Is there anything I can get you?” She asked, a smile plastering itself on her face as she righted herself.  “Some wine or food--.”  
“Natasha please stop.”

“You asked for it like this, my prince, so you shall receive it.”

“I just want you to listen to me.”  He’d stepped closer, taking her hands in his, his eyes searching hers.  She swallowed hard as she looked at him, unsure what else there was for her to do.

“I am listening, my prince.”  

He let out a quiet growl at the title but when Natasha didn’t say another word he sat her down on her bed and followed suit.  She scooted away from him, refusing to sit so close.  He didn’t get the luxury of it.  He said nothing about it and when she pulled her hands from his he watched them go with what must have resembled sorrow on his face.  

“Are you sure I cannot get you anything to drink my prince--.”

“Don’t.”  

Natasha winced at the forcefulness of the word and he murmured an apology, letting out a low rush of air.  “I am no good at this,” he said, the words jumbling together in their haste to leave his mouth, likely before his courage ran low.  Natasha had seen Alexei pull the same face when he had something to tell her but ended up not being able to say it at the end.  “By the gods I have not had to explain myself for some time, not since, well, I had to tell my father.”

“Perhaps if you tried repeating to me what you told him,” Natasha murmured under her breath.  

Loki’s chuckle reverberated through his whole body and Nat couldn’t help but lean closer.  As much as she hated to say it she missed the sound of his laugh.  

“You asked me before about whether or not it was true that I had . . . an affiliation with inflicting pain, and with the dark arts.  In the past yes, this was true.  I met a handmaiden that was deeply familiar with the occult and I had taken a fancy to her.  She had red hair like yours,” he sighed.  “And I was hell-bent on impressing her.  I saw a necklace she was wearing, and the rune on it was unlike any I had ever seen before.  I cannot tell you how many hours I spent researching runes, attempting to find the right one.  When I did the book I picked up had a number of unsavory things in it.  I brought it to her the next day to ask her about them, only rather than be outraged with my accusations she smiled and asked me if I was interested in learning the dark arts from her.  Determined not to lose face I agreed, said of course why would I not like to learn?”  He sighed and one of his hands rose to rub his temples.  “Of course looking back I realize how foolish this sounds but surely there has been one man who you have desired to appease and impress?”

Yes.  Ivan, though she would hardly call that the same thing; it was more or less she had to impress him or spend the rest of the day suffering for her failure. She nodded but said nothing, allowing him to continue on.

“She wanted me to do a spell with her, one that unfortunately required blood.  Her blood, she said, and as I was holding the knife to her arm, a small cut already reaching from here,” he pointed mid-forearm and stretched from one side to the other so it would have spread horizontally from one side of her underarm to the other.  Natasha had had bruises bigger than that.  “And the spell was supposed to help with . . . keeping unwanted suitors away.  The handmaiden was Sigyn’s and as it turned out she caught us.  With the blood and my hand on the knife and . . . we were in a certain state of undress, well, you can obviously understand how that looked.  My father offered her family quite a large sum of money for Sigyn to remain quiet to it, but all she and her family wanted was a secure place in the royal family’s good graces.  That was why she and I were arranged to marry; to keep her silent about my . . . previous experiments.  The rumors of a prince looking at books about dark magic, and supposedly enjoying pain?  She made that bit up to ensure I was seen as a monster.”  His face twisted into a deep scowl, his hands clenched tight in his lap as he began to quiver with what could only be indignation.  Natasha considered reaching out to him but before she could he muttered: “Her handmaiden, Breanna, was removed from her service and two days later hanged as a witch.  I will never forgive myself for causing her death.”

The silence that crept between them was not one that Nat could easily shake off.  For what she had been expecting . . . the way that Steve had made it sound, well, she had been anticipating a terrible story.  What he had been doing, well, it wasn’t as though he’d actually been successful.  No, he was still the spoiled, pampered prince who’d just been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it certainly explained his disdain for Sigyn.  

“No offense but . . . that’s all?”  She tried not to laugh.  

Loki’s stare was disbelieving as he turned to look at her.  “What do you mean ‘that’s all?” He asked, turning on the bed so he could look at her head on.  

“I mean, well, I expected more a more gruesome story.  One doesn’t exactly hear sadism and dark magic in the same character description each day,” she murmured, punctuating the end of her sentence with a shrug.  What more was there to say?  She barely stifled a yawn and Loki reached over to squeeze her hand.  This time she didn’t move it away, though her gaze was questioning when it turned on him.  

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but is it not gruesome enough that I have to deal with that cow?”

She just smiled and he leaned over to kiss her cheek; the feeling made her--oh no, Natasha was not blushing . She looked away, teeth worrying away at her bottom lip.  “Loki, I don’t want to get into all of the . . . politics of your marriage and what not, but I am unaware--what I’m trying to say is I’m not looking for a name for this whatever we’re doing, but, well I’d like to know exactly what’s going on.  One moment you want a quick coupling and the next you, what, are looking for some kind of resolution?  Acceptance?  I don’t know how to react, Loki.  You change way too quickly.”  She licked her lips, eyes shifting to look at him.  “What the hell are we doing?  What do you want?”

Once again Loki took her hand in his, but this time he brought his lips to her knuckles, kissing them one by one.  That was exactly what she was talking about!  How the hell was she supposed to stay mad at him when he kept acting like that?  With great difficulty she pulled her hand away.  

“What are you looking for?” Loki asked, sitting back onto her bed.  The mattress shifted with his movement and he stared at her from where he lay.  

“I should ask you the same question,” Natasha shot back, feeling her frustration rise.  This whole not answering her questions game was getting really old.  

“I have told you before that I enjoy your company simply because you are not afraid to speak your mind to me.  Your body and your prowess between the sheets is merely a bonus.”

“So, what, you want me to be your wife away from wife?” She asked, trying not to sound incredulous.  He couldn’t be serious, right?  “At first you said you wanted an affair, and now you’re saying that there’s something more emotional about it.  Loki--I can’t keep playing these games.  I won’t.”  She pulled away from the bed, standing and looking to the door.  “It’s as I said before: you wish to have all the powers of the prince and yet you want me to speak to you as if you were an equal and treat you like that, but when you say I have to, I must listen to you.  You are not my husband, and only one of these situations will make you my equal.  You need to decide what you want from me.  Before you can get all of that figured out, well, I want no part in it.  In anything.  Please stay away from me.”

“Natasha.”  He rose and crossed towards her but she backed up.  No, she was sticking to her argument this time.  She shook her head and his face fell.  “I know not what answer you are looking for from me--.”

“Just an honest one, but you need time to think about it.  I appreciate you telling me about what happened even if it is in the most unconventional of fashions.”  Did that really surprise her, though?  Not at all.  “But I must insist that you leave.  Now.  Give it a month to think about and then return to me with an answer.”

“I do not need a month--.”

“Loki please.”  Her voice was quiet, her gaze resolute, and even when his eyes pleaded with hers she didn’t waver.  He let out a low sigh and nodded.  Before he left he grew close enough to kiss her on the cheek and she shivered with the touch but that was all; she refused to call out to him or show any sort of weakness.  Only when he had gone and she had seen him out, locking everything behind him, did she collapse back up in her own room and try and remember how to breathe.  

* * *

Perhaps the gala was exactly what Natasha needed to take her mind off of everything that had happened, the two stories she’d learned, and her life as a whole.  She thought that over as she traveled, arriving to Steve’s estate a few hours before the festivities were due to start.  He’d written her earlier that week saying that it should take roughly two days for her to get there and that she was welcome early to freshen up before hand.  He was too sweet, she thought with a smile as she drew closer.  It was a grand place that was certain, larger than her tavern, with vast grounds that she was sure continued to stretch further back long after the house had stopped.  There were already carriages and horses being led to the stables for those attending, and as she came up closer her own carriage was driven away while her things were taken upstairs.  She waved a wisp of red hair out of her eyes before putting on her most winsome smile and following them up.  He’d invited her to stay past the gala, and she thought a few days wouldn’t hurt.  It was almost like a proper vacation, though she’d never had one before.  

Steve greeted her at the door, a wide grin on his face as he bowed to her.  She curtseyed, feeling foolish in one of her plain dresses, but he took her hand and kissed the back of it all the same.  Such a gentleman.  

“I’m so glad you could make it.”  He said when they straightened, the smile on his face stretching his cheeks so wide Nat’s hurt.  

“Of course--I told you I wouldn’t miss it.”  She grinned and allowed him to lead her inside, thrilled to not have to play host for once.  She’d been really lucky that he’d stopped at the tavern that night, she reflected as she listened to him explain how the night would go.  It was supposed to be a decently informal affair, Steve wasn’t a fan of large get togethers even if he had the house for it.  A small orchestra was already warming up in the corner, the sound of the strings being tuned and plucked at foreign and exciting to Natasha’s ears, having missed the same experience due to her excessive drinking at the wedding reception.  Until it sunk in that she had no idea what was expected of her as far as dancing; what if it was complicated and she looked like an idiot, or made Steve look like one for inviting her?  She might not have cared if it was anyone else, but he’d been so kind to her already she didn’t want to embarrass him.  She confessed her fears to Steve as he led her further inside and towards where her room would be, up the stairs and among the other guest rooms.  

“Don’t worry--I’ll teach you how.  I promise I won’t even step on your feet,” he winked.  “It’s not too difficult.”

She supposed that helped; at least the butterflies weren’t gnawing at her stomach any longer, only fluttering around in mild indignation at such a large oversight.  How could she have been so stupid?

She only allowed herself to panic when Steve had left her to her room, her small trunk already waiting for her, the elegant green affair she’d worn for the royal wedding lovingly tucked inside it.  It had been a mistake to come tonight, she thought as she paced back and forth, forcing herself to breathe.  Center herself.  No, she deserved this, and Steve was understanding and, well, as close to perfect as he could get she supposed.  Amazing he’d yet to be married.  

‘I have got to stop thinking like that.’  She sat down on the bed for a moment, breathing in deeply, before there was another knock on the door.  

“Natasha?”  Virginia was just on the other side.  

“Come on in,” Nat called out, doing her best to put on her smile when the other woman stepped through the slowly opening door.  She looked stunning, draped in red and gold while her hair was twisted into what Natasha could only assume was the latest fashion.  She normally left her hair down, not knowing what else there was to do with it.  

“It’s so good to see you again.”  She smiled and when Natasha rose the two women embraced.  “How are you doing?  I was so sad to see you go as soon as you did from the wedding.”

Yes, the wedding.  Loki’s story came flying back to Natasha’s mind, unbidden, but she forced it back as best she could.  She had many more things to worry about than that.  Nat made to apologize but the other woman waved it away, assuring her that she was here now and all was better.  They talked for a little longer, Natasha confessing to her friend her anxieties about dancing.  Pepper just chuckled.  

“You did fine before.”

“Yes, but that was easier.  Simply swaying on the spot.  I expected--I mean, aren’t these things more formal?”

“Absolutely not.  There may be some dances where prior knowledge of steps is required, but for the most part so long as you can follow a male lead there is nothing for you to be frightened or nervous about.”  Virginia’s hand on Natasha’s shoulder was a comfort, though not nearly as much as her words.  She’d nearly forgotten about that in the hysteria of feeling unprepared.  It certainly settled her anxieties and she felt her face relax, her smile turn more genuine.  Alright.  She could do this, right?  

The other red head left not long afterwards, allowing Natasha time to get ready in peace.  It didn’t take too long this time around, having been practiced not only in dressing in it but getting everything else ready, and unlike in her tavern this room had a mirror that she could check her reflection in.  She considered calling Virginia in to help with her hair, but she couldn’t imagine it would anything but a mess by the end of the night and decided not to waste the time on it.  Below, in the ballroom Steve had walked her through before, she heard voices; the first guests had likely already shown up.  She looked down at herself once more, decided that was about as good as it was going to get, and after slipping into her shoes she headed downstairs, praying for a sliver of good luck to last her through the night.  

* * *

It wasn’t nearly as bad as Natasha had thought it would be.  What Steve considered to be a small gathering was just that, perhaps no more than fifty to sixty people while Natasha had been anticipating a crowd resembling those congregated for Loki and Sigyn’s wedding.  It only further helped alieve her anxieties, as did Virginia’s smile as she worked her way through the crowd to find her and lead her back to the others.

“You look lovely as ever,” she complimented as they walked, the strawberry-blonde grinning.  “That color is gorgeous on you.”

Natasha thanked her, coming up with the most sincere compliment she could think of in return, though she was simply doing her best to compartmentalize the chaos that was going on around her.  It was no different than a busy night at the tavern, she assured herself, though this time she didn’t have to worry about serving anyone.  No one was going to hit on her, and she wasn’t going to have to endlessly flirt in order to get a decent tip.  She was entirely allowed to have a good time.  To relax.  

Not even Loki was there to spoil it.  

She felt her shoulders loosen as Steve’s eyes fell on her, as did the others.  There was a murmur of polite hellos, compliments that Tony Stark was all to happy to play off of, saying that he believed himself to be the best looking of the evening (“No offense of course, Natasha.”  He’d winked) and Nat had been all too willing to play along.  It was easy to loosen up when the others were taking the reigns of the conversation, and playing off of Virginia’s cues that was the best option.  

“How are you doing?” Steve had sidled up beside her, offering her what might have been her third glass of wine.  She politely refused, reminding him that the last time she’d drank and they’d danced she didn’t remember too much of it.  

“I don’t want tonight to go the same way.”  She teased.  He paused for a moment, then smiled.

“Of course.”  He handed it off to Clint, who was more than happy to take it.  He certainly had no qualms about drinking.  “Can I get you to dance with me, then?”  

The floor had been filled with couples coming and going, and as Pepper had said there were only a few that had specific dance steps Natasha was completely clueless about.  The current was much more relaxed to Natasha’s relief and Steve must’ve picked up on that, smiling as he held her close, one hand high on her waist and the other taking her hand.  

“So, you’re relaxed now are you?” Steve asked, voice loud enough for her ears.  

“All I have to do is remind myself I don’t have to suck up to anyone tonight for tips and everything is so much better.”  She admitted with a quiet laugh, allowing him to move her about.  There was one point in the dance where he pulled away from her and she watched in fascination as the other women around her stepped around their partners.  Natasha blushed, stifling a laugh with her palm over her mouth, as Steve then did the same to her.  

“Whoops.”  She muttered when they came back together.  Steve just smiled, holding her a little tighter.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Steve promised her and before she could so much as process what was happening he pressed his lips quickly to her temples.  “You look lovely no matter what.”  

That caused the heat to burn even hotter in her cheeks and her eyes sought his out.  They were a deeper blue and strangely more secretive than normal.  What was he hiding?  Her thanks was mumbled under her breath, and as the song slowed, transforming into another--or perhaps just a slower part of the song?  Natasha had no ear for music--Steve slowly pulled her closer to his body, close enough that she could rest her head on his chest.  She did so in order to save herself from having to crane her neck to look up.  Through his chest she could hear his heart beating fiercely, fast and persistent and almost calling out to her.  

What on Earth was he doing?

“Excuse me, might I have the next dance?”  Natasha would not have realized the music had stopped minutes later if it wasn’t for the voice.  And no, of course it couldn’t have been just anyone’s.  He could not be serious.  

Steve seemed just as shocked as Natasha to see Loki smiling politely at the two.  “Thor could not come and he sends his condolences and me in his stead.  He has business to attend but wished at least one of us present for the evening, Steve.”  

Steve’s hand on Nat’s waist tightened until she squirmed, uncomfortably with his strength and how he was catching her skin as well as the fabric.  It slackened immediately.  

“Do you mind?” Steve asked Natasha, his eyes searching hers, practically begging her to say yes, she minded.

“No.  Thank you, Steve, the dance was lovely.”  She reached up on her tiptoes and, for Loki’s benefit more than her own, pressed her lips to her friend’s cheek.  In her peripherals she could see Loki stiffen, his face tighten, and then he was as relaxed and cheerful as before, one hand extended for Natasha to take.  Steve was reluctant to let her go to say the least and stood, as if chained to the ground, even after Loki had whisked her away.

“What the hell do you think you are doing here?” Natasha murmured through her smile, staring up at Loki in disbelief.  “I told you a month.”

“And I hardly could be expected to see you dancing the night away with Steven Rogers, could I?”  His voice was just as terse, and while he might have shown his vexation for the wedding tonight he was all calm smiles.  It made his words so much more offsetting.  “You know he doesn’t like me, and I know he’s tried on more than one occasion to poison you against me.”  

The laugh that bubbled through Natasha’s lips was genuine, surprise and mirth leaking through.  “Are you jealous, Loki?”

His hands pulled her tighter against him, his breath hot on her ear.  “Very.”

“I told you a month.”

“I gave you three weeks and an evening with Rogers.  Allow me to woo you back.”

“No.”  She tried to make a show of spinning out and away from him, fully prepared to go back towards the group where she was safe, secure, and didn’t have to worry about him any longer when he spun her back into his arms.  

“Please, Natasha.”  The words sent a shiver up her spine.  “I never got a chance to tell you how mouthwatering you look in that dress; you are an absolute vision.  And the color?  I believe we match.  It would be a shame for me to let you go off and dance with someone who clashes so terribly with such a gorgeous color of dress.”  

Natasha rolled her eyes; as if he gave a damn.  Blue and white suited Steve Rogers just as green and black suited Loki.  

“Give me the night,” he murmured in her ear. “To win you back.  That’s all I ask.  One night, away from your husband, away from my wife.  The others will not say a word--I want one evening away with you.  Please, Natasha.”

A lump had formed in her throat at his words and she looked up at him.  Sought a lie in his eyes, and when she found none she nodded and leaned closer.  “Fine.  One night--if you don’t convince me you give me an extra month to reconsider.  If you do . . . I don’t think I need to remind you of what you get if you do.”  

His shiver was understanding enough and it made her smile.  Good to know at least she had the same effect on him that he did to her.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to getting this finished! I am so sorry it took forever and a day, but I hope that this one is worth the wait! Thank you all so much for your constant support through comments, views, kudos, etc. They all make my day and make writing just a little bit easier <3

Loki did his best to keep Natasha’s attention for the rest of the evening, whisking her away to the edge of the dance floor to steal quick kisses, under the pretence of just wanting to get a few words in while not moving.  Natasha couldn’t help but allow him; it was nice, almost empowering to know that the prince wanted her.  Of all people she was singled out and thought to be special.  She would be lying if she said she wasn’t glad of it, damn her pride.  One of the few times they parted was when Steve had pulled her back after Natasha and Loki had been dancing for some time. The prince had let her go with a flash of his eyes.  He wasn’t pleased with it but if he wanted her, well, he’d have to get used to working for something for the first time in his life.  

“I’m sorry Natasha, I didn’t know that Loki was going to be here,” he murmured as he swayed slowly with her on the spot.  His arms were wrapped around her waist and she just smiled, glad he was unable to see it due to their close proximity.  

“Don’t worry about it.  He’s attempting to apologize.  It’s . . . well, it’s rather nice, actually.”

“For everything he’s put you through?  I should say so.”  

Natasha froze.  How did Steve know what Loki had put her through?  He must have been thinking about the fiasco at her tavern and at the wedding, she supposed, but his words still put her on edge.  What would he say if he found out exactly what Natasha and Loki had agreed to?  Would he still want to be her . . . hell, she didn’t even know how to classify their sort of relationship.  Friendship?  She couldn’t be certain if he was looking for something more, but she’d just assumed he was too good of a man to try anything with a married man’s wife.  She couldn’t blame him.  

“What does he really want, though?”  Steve asked after a few more minutes of silence.  “With Loki there’s always an end game.  Always.  I’m not trying to pry, Natasha,” he said, feeling her grow tense in his grip.  He pulled away a fraction of an inch to tip her head upwards so that they could see one another eye to eye.  “But I don’t want you getting hurt.  You remember what I told you about his--.”  
“Yes, Steve, I do.”  She said, doing her best to keep her voice from sounding as if she was growing irritated.  She appreciated what he was trying to do--really, she did.  It was comforting to know that he was looking out for her, and the fact that he’d invited her here to begin with was more than she could have ever thought would’ve happened.  After all he was a high born, a lord of sorts she was sure though the other men never referred to him by his title, and for him to even so much as talk to her or attempt to include her in any way?  It was nearly unheard of save for fairy tales.  

“Then why do you give him the chance to hurt you as he’s hurt others?  You’re making yourself vulnerable, Natasha, and I can’t be there to protect you every time.”

Ah.  There was the crux of it.  Was that how he saw her, as some damsel in distress, about to be whisked off by the big bad prince who liked it a little rougher than most those she knew?  She could feel the indignation rising in her belly and though she tried to flush it out, tried to convince herself that Steve was just being, well, Steve--the good man that she had come to be familiar with--she couldn’t help but let the rage bubble in her veins.  

“No offense, Steve, but I’ve been taking care of myself for some time before you came around. I think I will be well enough when it comes to protection.”  She hadn’t intended on the words to sound as harsh as they did, but she bit back her apology.  To nullify the words would break the meaning, and she meant it.  She didn’t need some man thinking he had to be around her so that he could protect her.  The sentiment was nice but if he was sticking around for obligation?  She got enough of that from the idiot she’d been forced to call husband; she didn’t need the same from a man that had been a stranger not a month ago.  

He could read the harshness of her voice and for once he actually pulled away from her, his eyes searching hers.  He really couldn’t figure out what he’d said to offend her?  Perhaps he wasn’t used to women being able to think and take care of themselves.  If she was going to do . . . well, whatever this was with Loki she knew the consequences, she knew the risks, and she knew that she could take care of herself if she had to.  She’d done it before and she owed him no obligation further than that of a peasant to a royal.  Aside from that Loki had made it very clear before, when they’d first started this tryst that she was more than capable of saying no, of stopping this if she chose.  

Even though he didn’t seem to remember that now.

She wasn’t given much time to mull over that last revelation as another came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder, asking for her hand in a dance.  Natasha turned to see Clint, one of the other men that had traveled with Steve and his lot to celebrate the wedding, and his lips were twisted upwards in a small smile.  He looked polite enough and at that moment Natasha was ready to get away from Steve, or anyone who was looking to discuss her choices in company.  What business was it of theirs who she spent time with?  It wasn’t as if it affected them after all.  Without waiting to ask whether or not Steve was okay with ending their dance she smiled and pulled her hands away from Steve in order to allow Clint to lead her out to the center of the floor.  When she turned her head back once more Steve had left the floor and was in the process of drinking deeply from a goblet likely filled with wine or ale.  

“You’ve attracted quite a bit of attention tonight, Miss. Romanov,” Clint murmured in her ear as he held her close, the pair of them rotating in a slow three-step pattern.  As they turned Natasha caught sight of Loki dancing with another woman, this one blonde and green eyed, who seemed completely enraptured in whatever he was saying.  

His eyes flashed when they caught Natasha’s and the smirk would’ve been too quick to catch if she wasn’t so familiar with it.  

The bastard.  

“Apparently.  I don’t know what I’ve done to garner it,” she admitted to Clint, turning away from the damned prince to look at her new partner.  She smiled up at him, turning on the charm as best she could, throwing herself into their conversation to avoid thinking about what Loki was telling the blonde woman in his arms.  That was the last thing she wanted to think about.  “I’m just a woman who works at a tavern.  Why do you think all of this is happening?”

“Steve likes you a great deal, and he’s an excellent judge of character,” Clint murmured.  “So I daresay that helps.”

“Ah, yes, the personality always wins out over everything else.”  Natasha teased, rolling her eyes at the sentiment.

Clint’s own dry laugh joined hers as he moved her around the dance floor.  She was becoming very familiar with it by no, and the sound of the orchestra was becoming vague background noise as she followed Clint’s movements.  He wasn’t a half bad dancer, she had to admit, and it almost made her more pleased to see that Loki’s stare had hardened the next time their eyes met.  Clint, however, was not as oblivious to the god as Steve was.  

“You’re playing a very dangerous game with that one,” he murmured into Natasha’s ear.  “Very dangerous.”

“Ah, are you here to worry about me, too?  Treat me like I’m a woman who needs saving?”  She really hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding as angry as she was, but frankly she appreciated the concern but she could handle Loki.  At least she was almost sure she could.  

“I don’t think you need saving at all.  I’ve seen how you handle yourself around him.  It’s impressive,” Clint complemented . “You don’t swoon over him because he’s the prince, you hold yourself well around him and around everyone else.  But that doesn’t make him any less dangerous of a man.  I don’t think you need saving but I think you do need to be warned.”

“Steve’s already told me that.”

“Everything?”  He sounded doubtful.

“Everything I asked him about.”  Natasha told him, pulling away so she could look at him, so he could see the sincerity and honesty staring back at him.  

He still looked skeptical.  “And you still want to involve yourself with him?  Steve may be an idiot but I know an affair when I see one.”  He murmured, spinning her out and away from him before pulling her back.  As she moved Natasha could see Loki’s body stiffen before he trod on the foot of the woman he was dancing with.  Heh.  

“As you said Clint I can take care of myself.  I am stronger than I look, I can assure you.”  And it was true.  With what she’d been through it would’ve been impossible for her not to be as strong as she was, else she’d be dead.  Clint mulled this over as he spun her around once more.  If Natasha wasn’t mistaken he knew exactly what he was doing, knew that it would only rile Loki up, but she had to wonder why he was doing it intentionally if he wanted to warn her about the man.  “Are you trying to make him angry?”

“I’m trying to get the point across to him that this is how you are supposed to treat a lady, not sneak around the bushes with her for a quick fuck,” he murmured.  “Steve was doing the same except he wants you to appreciate exactly how well he’s treating you.  He fancies you.”

“I’m married.”

“When has that ever stopped anyone?”

“But Steve isn’t really anyone, is he?” Natasha asked, voice quiet.  

Barton gave a soft chuckle.  “Touche.  I walked into that one.  No, he’s not.  He’s the best guy I’ve ever known which is why it’s so surprising that he’d take a liking to you, no offense, but married women aren’t usually what he’s attracted to.  The last lady he courted did not work out well, they were too different in the end, and when she got married he was absolutely distraught.  Now the first woman he finds since then that he has taken a fancy to happens to be married already, I do not think Steve believes he has much less to lose, but he’ll never come out directly and say that he fancies you.”

“So what are you supposing I do, Clint?” She had pulled nearly out of his grip when he spun her out, their arms outstretched, before she slowly spun back towards him a moment or two later.  “I can’t give him what he wants, not unless he can talk the king into giving me a divorce.  Or Thor can somehow nullify my marriage.”  Even then she wasn’t sure she would want to; she hardly knew Steve.  And then there was Loki; she didn’t know if he’d let her get married again.  

Not that it was any of his business.  She shook her head minutely, trying to free herself from those thoughts.  He didn’t own her and this tryst was built on a need for the both of them.  If Natasha’s need was filled, well, then she would have no reason to be with him ideally.  That didn’t mean she wouldn’t want to be.  

“I’m saying that you need to be very careful with this game that you are playing with the two of them.  I don’t want to see Steve hurt and if you do not have returning feelings for him that is fine, it’s absolutely your right.  But you owe it to him to tell him.  And if you want to continue whatever you have with Loki then fine, but I am telling you right now it will blow up in your face.”  He pulled away from her as the song came to an end and their eyes clashed once more.  “I don’t want you getting hurt and Loki is going to hurt you, but more than that I don’t want my friend being getting caught in the midst of your lovers quarrels because he’s too good of a guy to give up without a reason to.”

Clint’s words sunk into Natasha’s belly, making her face heat up with her own muted embarrassment.  He had a valid point, she supposed, but she never asked for this.  She didn’t want to the responsibility of two men being, well, interested in her.  But if Steve could give her a different life, a different start, did she have the right to pursue that?  She’d taken vows before God that she would remain faithful to her husband, broke them the moment he did, and now, well, perhaps an annulment on her marriage would be the best thing.  If they could get her one.  

But by what right could she string Steve along until that day came, or even hint to him that that was what she wanted?

She was about to open her mouth to ask Clint what he thought she should do when there was a disruption from where the orchestra stood.  Tony had gotten it into his mind that he apparently wanted to play along with them, having drank a little too much to drink, and was now trying to push one of the violinists out of their seat.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” he said, frowning at Virginia, who was trying to convince him otherwise.  The attention of most of the patrons was drawn to the distraction, Clint included who was trying to make his way over in order to try and subdue Tony, and Loki took full advantage.  Thin fingers wrapped around Natasha’s wrists and there were a pair of lips at her ear before she could so much as realize what was happening.  

“Come with me my darling; the night is still young.”  He purred.  There was a flash of indecision on her face that Loki caught, causing him to pause and frown.  “You did promise me that you would let me try and convince you tonight.  Far too much mud has been slung onto my name, I know it has.”  His eyes sought out Steve and Clint, who were attempting to talk over Tony’s loud, ridiculous attempt at playing the instrument.  It sounded more like a cat was being tortured.  Loki’s fingers on her wrist were insistent and Natasha let herself be pulled along, looking back once more to catch Steve’s eyes before she and Loki were out of the room.  His blue eyes watched them with a mix of confusion and oddly enough sorrow.  She swallowed down the guilt she felt rising in her gut.  What kind of a mistake was she making, allowing Loki to pull her away from the others?

Any questions she might have had, any kind of reservations she might have had about this situation, her doubts and fears disappeared though the moment Loki crashed his lips hard against hers.  He held her tight against his body, pulling her into the first empty room they came to and locking the door after he’d closed it with a swift twist of his wrist.  He hardly gave Natasha time to think about it before he backed her slowly up to the bed and laid her down.  She felt her heart heave as she laid back to watch him work on the lacing up the front of her bodice, her top teeth worrying at her bottom lip.  Did she want this, really?  Clint’s words rang around in her head and she was about to do something about it,opened her mouth to say that she wanted him to slow down a bit, to stop even, when he must have sensed her apprehension and hiked her skirt upwards.  His lips on her center, followed shortly by his tongue, made her own mouth go slack and she was unable to consider anything else aside from the feel of his tongue and mouth devouring her as though she were a piece of fruit.  

Well maybe she wouldn’t end it just yet, he was just so good at this. She could hardly keep her thoughts together as he worked on her, and by the time he’d brought himself back up to her level she was out of breath, chest heaving and eyes glazed as she stared up at him.  

“You are absolutely delicious,” he murmured, breath hot against her neck where he was biting and sucking his way down her skin.  A moan ripped itself from her throat at his words and before she could so much as wrap her mind around what was happening he’d sheathed himself inside of her with a low groan.  It was pure heaven to have him back between her legs though she could hardly keep her thoughts straight as he worked.  Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, staring up at him as he placed his hands on her hips and drove into her again and again, his thrusts nearly punishing with their force but allowing him to hit all the right spots with scary precision, as if he were built specifically for the task of pleasing her.  Oh, she liked that idea very much.  In no time her back was arching again, another orgasm washing over her and leaving her drained.  He followed not too long afterwards, collapsing to the side of her as he finished.  It was a chore to keep her eyes open and as Loki pulled her closer he leaned closer.  “I love you,” he said, voice quiet against her ear.  The words sent a jolt through her body and all thoughts of falling into a contented sleep vanished.  

“What?” She hardly breathed as she sat up quickly.  No, love was not something she did.  She’d tried that with Alexei and it hadn’t turned out well, and she’d tried that before with another boy that she’d come across, who’d picked her up piece by piece when Alexei had shattered her with his liaisons.  Neither occasion was something Natasha enjoyed thinking about and the concept of love, of baring one’s soul to another without heeding how it might hurt you was not something that she ever thought she could partake in.  Not again.  Perhaps that was what kept her wary of Steve and his affections, and even now as she sat next to Loki she felt herself retreating, pulling away from him.  She didn’t do love.  

He looked confused when he sat up to watch her.  “What?  What is wrong with confessing how I feel?”

“You don’t know me,” she argued.  “You cannot love me.”

His eyes were calculating as he took her in, wetting his lips before speaking.  “Did I frighten you with my confession?”

“Yes.”  

“Why?”

She turned away, making to get out of bed.  She needed to stand, pace, to do anything to get this excessive, almost destructive energy out before it made her lash out.  She’d always said that she had more energy than she knew what to deal with, and when she got worked up like this?  Any sort of concept of being tired disappeared.  “I don’t believe in love.  Not anymore.  Love leaves you too vulnerable and is compromising.  I don’t tolerate either.”  Her eyes were hard as they met his.  “I am sorry if this offends you but . . . I can’t.”  

He’d slithered to the other side of their bed, watching her as she paced back and forth until he feared she might wear away the hardwood flooring and put a hole in the ground.  His expression was blank as she could only assume his mind struggled to make sense of her words.  As far as women went she knew she was not normal; the ladies she’d met all believed in such trite nonsense as love at first sight or true love.  It didn’t exist, and if it did Natasha wanted no part in it.  

“Then forget I said anything.  It will be difficult but I can respect your decision.  Would it still frighten you if I admitted that I had strong feelings for you?  Strong desires to protect and keep you safe?”

“What if it’s from yourself?”  She countered, stopping to watch his eyes darken and his lips purse together.  Ah, she had hit a nerve.  

“Why would you ever consider that you needed to be protected from me?”

“You may not have noticed, Loki, but you are the prince.  You have rules and responsibilities and you flit back and forth between trying to be a commoner and a prince.  I cannot keep up with this constant switch, I have told you this, and I do not intend on trying to fulfill every role that you seem to believe me capable of.  It’s exhausting.  If you wish to protect me, then protect me from your unstable mood swings and your inability to make up your mind.”  

“Okay.”  

The word was so quiet that Natasha wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him right.  Okay?  He’d agreed with her?  She stepped back to search his expression.  She couldn’t find any of the usual tells when a man lied to her; his eyes weren’t focused on the ground but instead staring right back at her, practically bleeding sincerity.  

“I will do my best to fix that which you have brought my attention.  I did not mean to put you in a panic with my words, Natasha, I simply felt it appropriate to tell you how I felt.  If it makes you feel more comfortable I can retract my statement but it does not make it any less true, and I am sad to seek protection from me.  I had not thought I was a menace to you.”  He admitted.  One of his hands reached out to hers and she saw a flash in his eyes of what looked like pain when she flinched.  “Natasha I mean it, every word.  I want this to work out between us, whatever it may be, with or without your shared affection.  I do not wish you to leave me, though.  Please, Natasha.”  His voice grew quieter than Nat had ever heard it and again she thought she was getting a good view of what Loki was really like beneath all the tricks and the boasting and the jumped up attitude.  The hand he held squeezed his back.  

“Alright.  Just keep the ‘l’ word to yourself, please,” she said, only half joking.  She really didn’t think that she could handle another outburst like that.  He pulled her into his arms so that she could relax against him, breathing him deep.  

* * *

The next day Loki had to leave, having promised his family that he’d return soon so that they could go back to discussing the matters for Thor’s own marriage.  Apparently he’d met someone at Loki’s own wedding, and the younger brother couldn’t have been happier.  “It will keep my family distracted with such an extravagant ceremony.  If you thought mine was special, well, you will be amazed when you see what my mother has in store,” he murmured that morning as he laced up his breeches and pulled his shirt back on.  Natasha had been forced to dress in the same gown of the night again and could only hope she didn’t run into anyone.  If she did, well, she would think of something.

“Do you know who it is?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Her name is Sif, and she was visiting from another land when the two met.  He’s quite enamored with her,” Loki said with a smirk.  “It was how I convinced him to go to visit her while I would take his place here.”

“Tricky,” Natasha teased, rolling her eyes at his pride before kissing him quickly.  He left shortly after that, promising that once things picked up in the castle he would send word to her again as they’d discussed before.  He stole one last kiss before disappearing out the door with his few belongings.  Natasha couldn’t wipe the small smile from her lips.  He might have intimidated her, reminded her a little too much of Ivan at times and even more than that he reminded her of herself, but weren’t the most rewarding things in life those that you risked something on?  She told herself that as she made her way up the staircase to her room.  Steve was waiting there already, his eyes having zeroed in on her before she’d so much as caught a glimpse of him.  The surprise made her jump.  

“Steve.  Hi.”  She forced herself to smile.  He didn’t quite return it, expression twisted into one of resignation.  

“So, it’s him, is it?” He asked.  Natasha’s heart sank as she heard how, well, sad he sounded.  She swallowed back the denial that she didn’t know what he was talking about.  She respected him far too much to lie outright to his face like that, and she nodded.  

“Yes.  I know what you said about staying away from him but, Steve, he makes me feel so . . . so--.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude but Natasha I don’t want to hear it.”  His voice is even quieter so that Nat has to lean closer to hear him.  “I can’t say more than what I already have and I’ll be worried for you but please don’t try to explain yourself to me.  I don’t need to hear it.”  

Oh.  So that was how it was going to be?  She forced herself to withhold just what she thought Steve needed to hear and nodded instead, averting her eyes.  “Of course.  I’ll be on my way.  I am sorry I am not staying any longer.”

He didn’t say a word aside from an affirmation that yes, that would be good, and he retreated back into his own room.  She felt her heart sink, Barton’s words from the last night coming back to her about the last time Steve had felt strongly about someone.  She hated to do it to him but didn’t she get a say in her life?  Hadn’t she been pushed and pulled and told what to do all her life?  Self-righteous defiance blossomed in her stomach as she moved to her room, to change and to pack everything back up.  She was a full-grown woman who’d just recently gotten used to doing as she pleased; why should she let guilt bully her back into stepping down and doing what someone else wanted?  

Before she left she tapped on Steve’s door, calling out to him to thank him for his time and his hospitality.  There was a pause and then she added: “I’m sorry to have hurt you, Steve, but it’s my choice and I’ve made it.”

The door opened after that and the man in front of her was quite different from the happy-go-lucky man she’d grown used to.  This one looked weary, world-traveled and as jaded as Natasha felt every evening as she laid herself down to sleep.  The change was such a startling difference that Natasha lost her next words.  

“I could have been all that he is, Natasha, and I would never hurt you for it.”  His words are once again difficult to hear, even at such a close proximity, and it’s all Natasha can do not to shudder.  She instead extends a hand to cup the side of his face, giving him her best sympathetic smile.  

“Steve, I mean this in the best way possible but you’re too good for me.  You know it and I know it, and if we ever tried something it would hurt you too much.  I can’t put you through that.”  She leaned forward to once again press her lips to his cheek but he pulled away.  His gaze had hardened and his jaw was clenched.  

“Thank you for your company last night and your hospitality before.  I am not feeling well at the moment but the servants will help to see you out.  Goodbye, madam.”  He gave her the quickest of bows and she’d barely had time to curtsy back before he shut the door quietly in his face.  He’d been careful to hold himself back so that it didn’t slam, which only made it worse.  Despite her determination and fire before Natasha’s heart was heavy all the way back to her home.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Steve, I've been whumping on him so much lately. <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said I'd get a chapter out before next week?  
> =]  
> Hope you enjoy it! Thank you all so much for your support; I love you all for it!  
> Trigger warning! If choking or asphyxiation is a trigger for you I highly recommend skipping the sex near the very end!

Things had hardly changed by the time Natasha got back to the tavern; it had been slow enough that Alexei had been fine with just Yelena, as Nat had predicted, and by the time she got back he looked surprised to see her back so early.  He called her out on it from behind the bar as she brought her trunk of things back inside.  She just shrugged his questions off.  

“What, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be?”  Though she couldn’t see his face she could hear the gloating smirk in his voice.  Her shoulders tightened and her knuckles went white as she held on tighter to her things, forcing herself to clench down to keep herself from decking him.  She didn’t wait longer than a half a minute before she made her way back upstairs.  She had to bathe still and take care of her things; she didn’t have much more time to waste on him, nor did she want to give him the satisfaction of a response.  They were her memories to go over, not for her to share, even if they weren’t the happiest ones she could have imagined.  There were certainly worse ones she could compare them to.  Rolling her shoulders to try and get the knots out of her back from being on the road for so long, she moved slowly around her room to put her things back, leaving the dress out so that she could wash it later the next day.  As her hand fell down the bodice of it she couldn’t help but smile.  At least she’d gotten good use of it, and it had done the trick in getting Loki’s attention like she’d wanted it to.  

It seemed to have done the trick well enough as Loki’s page came around the next day, earlier than Alexei was willing to get up, to inquire about Natasha’s availability.  Perhaps she would have to send the seamstress a tip for doing such a fabulous job.  

“I would be more than happy to meet with the prince whenever he wishes.”  She said with a delicate smile on her face.  The page nodded and thrust a letter towards her.  

“My prince had hoped you might say that.  Enclosed is a list of times and dates as well as places.  He hopes you will find this to your liking and if it is not to tell me immediately.”

Well that was all very prompt.  She opened the envelope slowly and looked down the list.  There shouldn’t have been a problem with any of these, and she nodded her head to show that she was fine.  The man gave a quick smile and a little bow to Natasha before he left.  She hardly had time to curtsy.  What the heck was going on when pages bowed to tavern owners?  Still, she couldn’t deny that it was again an ego boost, a much needed one as it turned out, and she returned to her tasks with an easier smile on her face.  

* * *

She and Loki met in secret at least four to five times a week, sometimes more than once during the day.  It was always at his discretion when and where they met, and Natasha was getting quite good at coming up with excuses to get away.  Not that it was ever difficult; all she had to do was convince Yelena to move closer to Alexei, pull her corset down the slightest of inches, and Natasha’s husband was no trouble at all.  More often than not Loki arranged a safe house for them to meet in, though he often complained of the locale.  It wasn’t that it was beneath him, just that he was constantly afraid they would be seen emerging together or apart.  Not for his sake, of course, as he had assured her many a time.

“I do not want the villagers to think you are a wench sleeping around to get something out of it.”  He murmured as they dressed one mid-afternoon.  

“Well, perhaps if we didn’t do it in the middle of the day like a pair of newlyweds they might not have a chance of seeing us,” Natasha had teased back, leaning over to kiss his cheek before asking him to tighten her corset.  He did so without a hesitation, his lips traveling down her throat to her exposed shoulders.  His eyes ghosted over her wrists, this she knew as he’d done it many a times that evening, his eyes studying the already purpling bruises that surrounded her hands and took the shape of a palm.  

Perhaps she’d try and bruise it further to disguise it.  

“You know I cannot do that,” he said with a sad sigh. “I will be followed constantly during the evening.  It is only in the day that I am allowed to be free, hidden under the daylight as it were.  Funny, yes?”

“Very.”  She smiled back at him.  They’d parted after taking a few more minutes in saying their goodbyes, and after he tousled her hair further he left with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  All the way back Natasha wondered what he was thinking.  

It didn’t take long to find out. The building they’d been coupling in was bought out from its previous owner by the end of the week, and was being fitted for the same equipment and storage that Natasha’s tavern had currently.  Loki had handed over the deed to her with a wide grin the next time they met and Nat had nearly dropped to the ground out of shock.  

“You bought me a second tavern?” She spluttered, looking from the sheet of paper saying it was so to her lover.  “How--why?”

“Because now you will be much closer.  I can hide under my guise from before, stay here, and we will never have to be apart for long.”

She tried not to gape for too long, half expecting the paper to disappear in her hands.  She had to be dreaming, right?  When she pinched herself and nothing happened she forced herself to come to terms with it.  Right. No big deal.  He’d only bought her a building.  She did the only sensible thing to do and kissed him hard on the lips.  

“You astound me my dear,” she whispered when she pulled away.  

“And you me.”

Alexei could hardly believe it when she came to him that evening and told him that she’d bought a tavern.  Loki had been thoughtful enough to have put the deed under her name, having been able to make his page do all the necessary footwork in order to make the surprise worthwhile.  His eyes were wide as the moon when she showed him the paper and grinned, telling him she was moving to take care of that one.  “We’ll make double our revenue,” she assured him as she reached over to touch his arm.  He seemed to relax under that as she knew he would.  “And you and Yelena can stay here, while I’ll find someone else to hire to help over there.  Once a month we’ll meet up to compare how much we’ve made, and that will be that.”  What else could she say?  It wasn’t as though he could find any fault in her logic, and when he demanded to know where she’d gotten the money to fund such an extravagant idea, as he called it, she told him that she’d simply been saving up for some time to get another one.  “It’s what Ivan would’ve wanted.”  

The mention of the man, even though he was dead, was enough to put Alexei on edge.  He wasn’t about to go against what the man had wanted.  Gone or not Alexei’s respect and fear of his mentor’s spirit was enough to silence him about the second tavern.  

Within the week Natasha had moved in to what would be her new home and it was such a relief that she could hardly believe it was real.  She’d pinched herself many a time while her things were relocated from her old home to her new one and each time she couldn’t help but be amazed when the illusion didn’t vanish in front of her eyes.  It was the first time she’d been on her own, truly on her own, in her own establishment, and the release from the constraints of her previous arrangement was nearly too wonderful to put into words and so instead she found herself grinning until her cheeks burned.  Loki visited her as often as he could sneak away from his own life, generally under the guise of Magnus.  Matthew, her newest hired hand (she’d be damned if she hired a woman again) learned rather quickly to keep quiet about the frequent guest, always bringing him up to Natasha’s room before anyone else could notice.  Only after he was certain that the prince was out of sight would he go to Natasha and let her know that her lover was there.  She could never thank him enough that he picked up the slack for when she was gone, and made sure that he was paid well enough for it.  Loki, too, tipped him generously for his silence both on his way in and out.  Because of his more frequent visits they were able to do more than simply have sex (though it always either began or ended that way.  Sometimes both.)  

She learned more about him than she ever knew of Alexei, but it gave her a rare opportunity to study his mannerisms.  She’d always thought he’d let his guard down when they were in private, by on the contrary he seemed to hold it even higher.  What was worse, she noticed that Loki had a rather bad habit of meeting her eyes and holding them whenever he would say something particularly strange or unbelievable.  It was odd; she always counted on men having a bad habit of looking away when they lied, and it hadn’t steered her wrong in the past.  It was, however, something she did her best to not focus on if she was honest with herself.  That came with too many implications and uncomfortable notions, ones that she didn’t care to consider when she was truly happy for the first time in so long.  If he noticed her well disguised skepticism then Loki said nothing, seemingly happy to simply be with Natasha.  Nat couldn’t blame him.

One of the few deeper secrets he’d divulged to her was his lack of equal attention offered to each son, though Natasha had a difficult time feeling too terrible for him; he was still a posh, pampered, spoiled prince.  What was there for him to complain about, really?  Still she put on a sympathetic face as he explained everything.

“No matter what I would do Thor would have done it already.”  Loki told her over a bottle of wine he’d brought with him.  He never came empty handed, Nat had to admit.  It certainly eased the money situation she’d found herself having, and she was glad she didn’t have to provide for him with the sparse goods she had split with Alexei.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said after pulling her attention back to the conversation they were having.  “My adoptive father did the same to make us work harder.  On the rare occasions he’d take notice it was either to tell us we were dreadful or highlight that someone else did it better.”

“What did you do to get over it?” Loki asked after the silence had fallen between them, sounding much like a hopeful child looking for all the answers.  Natasha wasn’t sure she could give any.  One of her hands reached out to his, interlacing their fingers together and squeezing.  He didn’t meet her eyes, pressing his lips instead ot the back of her hand.  

“Well, you learn to do better, to push yourself until you fall over with or until your feet break and your legs snap, but you get up and you keep getting up because in the end the change will be worth it.  The progress and strength is worth it.  You’re jaded, but you’re stronger for it.”  Natasha sighed and hung her head, eyes following the patterns of the bedspread Loki had also provided.  Bless him.  He’d truly done so much for her.  

“That sounds very difficult.”

“It is.  Accepting it is the hardest part, but once you have come to terms with the fact that you must improve--you must improve or die, in my case--then you do, whether you like it or not.”  Nat ran a hand through her hair, feeling it knot and tangle at the slightest provocation.  Loki’s eyes followed her hand and took it when it was free of her red hair, pressing his lips to the back of it.  

“You always know exactly what I’m going through, and I love that you can sympathize with me,” he murmured against her skin.  Nat looked away.  There he went, throwing the damn love word around again.  And she could hardly sympathize entirely with what he was saying; more like she’d seen a more extreme version and could understand why his poor little world had gone crashing when one thing didn’t--.

She was getting too ahead of herself and was being unkind.  She just smiled and kissed his cheek.  “Of course darling.”  She said, laying back on the bed to stare up at the canopy of her new bed; Loki had bought it, complaining the one she’d had hurt his back.  Not that she was about to say anything bad about it.  Beside her, Loki had shifted so he could run his lips over her bare shoulders, and against her hip she could already feel him flaring to life again.  She smiled as she turned her head to look at him.  

“Already?”

“What can I say my darling?  You do what my wife cannot.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.  “Please do not mention her.”  She’d told him time and time again that she didn't like the reminder that what they were doing, well, was about as illegal as it went without taking the life of another.  Not that he ever seemed to mind, but it wasn't going to be his neck on the line if they were ever found out.  They could never be found out.  She’d be tried and burned as a witch, or else hanged for bringing the prince into an illicit relationship.  

“Sorry my love.”  

She forced herself to conceal a scowl at the word, instead opting to pull his chin up so their lips could meet.  He might have a way with words with some of the other ladies, the ones who didn’t know any better, but his tricks were only so good for so long.  She’d teased him about that more than once and he, being the sullen prince that he was, had pouted for some time until she assured him it was a joke and that she’d never say anything again.

He grinned into the kiss, pressing himself closer to her as he took the top.  He pulled his lips away from hers so that they could travel down her body, lavishing attention on her breasts as one of his hands wandered downwards to slowly stroke at her center.  His other hand stayed relatively close to the upper half of Natasha’s body, playing with the wrist of one of her arms as though he was simply biding his time waiting for something.  Nat wasn’t given much time to focus on that, her back arching as he slipped one finger slowly into her, grinning all the while.  He pulled it out only to press it into his own mouth and suck at the wetness that covered it, before pressing two fingers back inside her, working her open slowly.  As if she wasn’t already prepared for him; they’d only finished coupling not a few hours ago.  Not even her body was that resilient to change.  She moaned and murmured his name, licking her dry lips as she looked up at him with half-lidded eyes.  He gave a low chuckle.  

“You are an absolute vision like this, do you know that?  Body maddened with lust, aching for me.”  Each word was practically chocolate-covered as they floated into her ears, setting her skin afire and making her hips buck as he pressed a third finger into her, rubbing at that perfect spot deep inside.  “I wondered my darling, my dearest, if you’d let me try something?”

The fire that had covered her fell back to a low simmer as she looked up at him.  Perhaps a little more apprehension shown in her face than he would have liked because he backtracked immediately.  “Nothing terrible my love.  Don’t worry, I don’t want to sacrifice you to a demon or something.”  He laughed.  Behind it she could see the hurt that he felt at her immediate reaction and she felt guilt crop up in the back of her mind.

“Sure Loki.  What did you have in mind?” She asked, leaning up to stroke his hair and smiling.  He paused, hesitating, before pushing her back down with his hand at her throat until she was lying flat.  He didn’t remove his hand even when her back was flush against the bed.  She got the message.  Swallowing hard her nerves she nodded and smiled up at him, assuring him that she was fine as best she could.  The pressure on her throat increased, and it only grew as he pressed his still hard cock into her, making her gasp not only at the sensation but as air became a little more difficult to come by.  Without so much as a warning he set a grueling pace, his hips snapping hard against hers as if he sought to pound her into the mattress.  She wouldn’t have complained much, always finding him a more than adequate lover no matter what the speed, but the pressure on her throat was disconcerting.  As she felt herself climbing higher and higher towards her orgasm his hand tigtehened until she was practically wheezing.  She tried tapping at his hand to tell him it was too much but he never seemed to get he message.  

If anything it got harder.  

“L-Loki,” she rasped, coughing as she started to see dots in front of her eyes.  He whispered for her to let it go, for her to find her orgasm and relax underneath him, and as though her body had been waiting for his command it convulsed.  The fire that had once been so tame grew into a pyre, burning her alive.  Or maybe that was the lack of air to her body making her burn so hot and making everything seem so much brighter, and then at the same terrifying time much darker.  

Once he’d finished shortly after Natasha he released her throat, leaving the red headed woman gasping for breath, coughing and wheezing as if she’d just been punched in the chest.  

What the hell was that about?

Her eyes filled with tears and her lungs finally filled with air she rounded on Loki, pulling away from the man who was now trying to cuddle close.

“Don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that again.”  She could hardly speak her voice was so hoarse, and guessing by the twinges she felt in her neck she knew she’d be bruised soon afterwards.  It hurt like hell and she winced as she raised her hands to touch it.

“Why not?  Didn’t you like it?”

“No--I didn’t know you were going to choke me!”  She scrambled to her feet, or at least she would have if her legs hadn’t been made of jelly, causing her to tumble and hit the floor.  Even so, she scrambled back, struggling to breathe, to remind herself that she could.  Loki didn’t move from his spot on the bed, his eyes confused as they watched her struggle to relax and, very wisely, he kept any and all comments to himself.  Only once her heart had nestled its way back into her chest, still beating quickly but without threatening to choke her or leap from her body did she look up to meet his eyes.  

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”  His voice was apologetic and with slow, steady movements the prince knelt down onto the ground beside her.  She swallowed hard and he reached out to simply take her hand.  “I thought--I’d heard it made the climax more enjoyable.  Did it not?”

No, it did.  For about a minute, until the panic that she couldn’t breathe set in.  She looked away as she mumbled her explanation, feeling ashamed for the way she freaked out.  He’d been trying to help her, after all, even if his methods were . . . unorthodox.  And hadn’t she done worse in the past?  One of his hands wrapped slowly around her wrist to pull her closer, into his waiting arms, where she felt herself relax.  Anyway, hadn’t he asked her permission?  All the reasons for why she was being an idiot floated around in her head and by the time he was getting ready to leave the apologies were leaving her lips for reacting so violently against him.  He just smiled and cupped the side of her face to lean in and kiss her.  

“You’re lucky it’s getting colder; you’ll want to wrap a scarf around your neck to cover those up.  Here.”  He pulled his own green scarf from his coat and tied it gently around her neck, kissing where her jaw and throat met so gently it made her shiver.  “You look lovely.  I really must be going.  I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”  She shot him an easy smile and watched as he slipped out, hood pulled up so no one would recognize him.  

The realization of what had just happened didn’t hit Natasha until that night, when she’d crawled into her bed, throat throbbing, and pulled the covers around her.  She shuddered, still able to feel the way her throat had been closed, how his fingers had wrapped around her neck and squeezed with such ease.  How he’d enjoyed it.  She’d have to tell him in the morning that she didn’t want to do that any longer; better orgasm or not, she very much enjoyed living and didn’t want to tempt fate that he might lose control and accidentally kill her.  Then again, and here her thoughts turned morbid in the gathering dark, what might he do next if she refused him that?  

Needless to say sleep didn’t bring her relief that evening.  

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this written and done with! I hope you all like it--thanks so much for the continued support, comments, kudos, and reads, everyone! They are the highlight of my day =]

To Natasha’s great surprise the tavern did incredibly well.  Thor visited Natasha on occasion, always concerned for her welfare and how everything was doing, as though he still felt responsible for what he imagined had happened, and his company seemed to draw many more in, whether they were looking for the prestige of eating and drinking where the future king was, or whether they simply wished to come to him for council.  Natasha had to admire his stamina for listening to the problems of others, and never once did he turn a man or woman away.  He would make a good king, she decided for herself as she watched him help settle a debate  between two men over which man owed what.  By the end of the evening they were all back to being friends once more, sharing a pitcher of ale between the three of them.  On the days that Thor brought Loki along with him there weren’t any chances for the future king to listen to the problems of his people; in fact his people hardly came up to him when Loki was around.  The two usually sat in silence, drinking, and Loki would catch Natasha’s eye as she came closer to serve them.  Thor would keep a steady eye on their interactions, as was only his right, and the lovers would do their best not to draw more attention to themselves than necessary.  

“How is Steve doing, Thor?” Natasha asked one evening, smiling as she refilled his mug and brought them both a loaf of fresh bread.  Since they’d been doing so well she’d been able to afford a proper kitchen, and now food was a main part of what was offered.  It had been a huge success so far.  

Thor’s face changed for a moment to surprise.  “Fine, my lady.  As far as he tells me at least.  From what I understand he is engaged now.”

“Is he?”  She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little hurt, though she knew she had no reason to be.  She had told him that she had picked Loki instead and he, well, he was more than entitled to find someone else.  She forced herself to smile.  “I’m so glad to hear it.  Tell him I say congratulations, will you?” She asked, cocking her head to the side.  “I hear you’re to tie the knot as well.”  Her hand reached over to squeeze his shoulder and he grinned up at her just in time to miss seeing Loki’s eyes darken at the contact.  Natasha looked at him in confusion.  What, was she not allowed to touch him now?  

“I am happy to say that that is true,” his face split into one of the broadest grins she’d ever seen.  “The Lady Sif has finally agreed to be my wife.”

“Yes, you’ve only been pursuing her for years,” Loki teased, drinking deeply from his wine goblet.  She’d made sure to pour him his favorite vintage, the one he was kind enough to provide when he came to visit so he would have something to drink when he was with his brother.  

“Has it been years already?” Thor asked with a low chuckle, offering Natasha a seat at his side.  She saw Loki’s flicker on the one next to the one beside him, but it wasn’t as though she could take it.  So she sat next to Thor, smiling as he explained to her that he’d been courting the lady for some time.  He admired her strength, her devotion to her work, and more than anything he thoroughly enjoyed her fighting spirit.  It was what made her an excellent partner.  “I am in love with who she is within, not just the physical beauty,” he admitted to her.  “After all I could not imagine being with someone I was not wholly compatible with for the rest of my life.”

Nat’s lips turned upwards in a real smile.  Good for him; she was glad to hear that at least someone cared more than just the physical.  “But I am sure she is lovely nonetheless?”

Thor laughed, the noise booming.  “Yes, she is.”

“One of the fairest maidens in all of the kingdom,” Loki interjected, smirking when his brother wasn’t looking.  Did he hope it would irk her?  She played it off by putting her hand on Thor’s arm.  Fine, two could play that way if he wished it.  

“Only the fairest would suit you, my prince,” she complimented, unable to stop herself from batting her eyelashes.  If she was going to do this she might as well play it up as much as she could.  Across from her Loki fumed, while Thor seemed oblivious.  No.  He knew all right.  She could see the way his eyes flashed at her words was more of a warning than anything, though whether it was to avoid Loki or to stop entirely she couldn’t tell.  Either way she wasn’t about to take that chance and removed her hand promptly from his.  

“Well, I’d best be getting back to business.  Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”  She gave him her best smile, one she hoped would convey enough of an apology for the way she acted, before walking away.  They left not long after that, though Loki told Thor to go on ahead of him, claiming he saw a friend of his.  Natasha could hear the pair arguing from where she was behind the bar, roughly a couple hundred feet away, and she flushed.  What on earth would Loki want with her?  Unless, he really did need to see someone.  She tried not to think too hard about it, trying to lose herself in her work.  Eventually Thor left and Loki all but stomped his way up the stairs towards their room.  When Matthew tried to stop him he growled and hoisted the man closer by the collar of his shirt.  His words were too quiet for Natasha to hear, though she rushed over to try and intervene if she could.  By the time she’d gotten close enough Loki had disappeared up the steps and she followed him.  

“Loki,” she hissed, following quickly behind.  “What is your problem--.”

Her back hit the front of her door, Loki’s hand on her hair so he could pull her head back to look at him.  The training she’d once been put through with Ivan, to keep herself from showing any real fear or emotion, even in the face of certain danger, kicked in.  She didn’t know what was wrong with him, or what could be done about it, and so she hid herself away.  He didn’t like that one bit, baring his teeth in a snarl.  

“What, you won’t show me an ounce of the emotion you threw at Thor today?” he demanded, fumbling with the key to he could push her into the room and lock the door behind him.

“Are you so incapable of watching me talk to another man, or be friendly with him, even if that man is your brother?” She demanded right back.  “I was simply being polite.”

“Oh it was more than that.”  He grabbed her by the hair and threw her down on the bed again.  Panic blossomed in her stomach as she pulled herself away, rolling onto the other side so that her feet hit the ground before he could do anything else.  Not that it made her feel any more safe, and the way his eyes seemed to glaze over with a mixture of lust and predatory glee made her heart drop.  

“Loki.  Stop.  Please.”  There was that damn ‘p’ word again, and oh how she hated it.  Especially to him.  It meant that he had the upperhand, that she was reduced to asking, rather than telling him he would stop.  It meant she was at his mercy, and she was quickly beginning to think that that wasn’t a place she wanted to be.  Her heart quickened as she watched him step closer.

“Oh, now it’s ‘please’ is it?” He smirked as he reached forward to grab her wrist and yank her up to stand in front of him.  She hated her body for shaking in his grasp.  “You’ll be saying that far more frequently before I’m done with you my girl.”  He crashed his lips against hers, but she pulled away.  

“No, stop.”

His free hand grabbed her jaw and squeezed so hard she cried out, tears starting in the corners of her eyes.  Oh, God, that hurt.  He was much more rough with her than he’d ever been, but even the sight of her tears didn’t stop him.  He threw her down on the bed so her backside was nearly hanging off and all but ripped her skirt when he pushed it upwards.  With his legs he separated hers and thrust a hand up towards her center, but there no way she could be any less interested in what he was doing.  His fingers were rough against her, and when he sucked on his two forefingers before shoving them into her she actually cried out.  

“Loki--stop!” she demanded, trying to pull away from him.  She couldn’t remember a time in the recent future that she hurt more than that, and certainly not during sex.  Her words stopped him for a moment, as though he’d snapped out of it, and he pulled away from her as he realized what was happening.  Natasha had started crying against her will, and when he finally removed himself from between her legs she shoved her skirt down over her lower half and curled into a ball on the far end of the bed as she forced herself to try and get it out of her system quickly so she could calm down again.  Loki took a seat on the chair opposite the bed, his green eyes wide in horror as he watched her break down, and when she felt his eyes on her she turned away.  She didn’t want him seeing her like this.  

“P-please.  Leave me alone.”  She gasped, her shoulders shaking with the aftershocks of her surprise and pain.  What the hell had made him do that, and worse than that what had made him keep going even after she’d asked?  She didn’t want to think about it.  A hand moved to rest on her shoulder and she pulled away with a hiss, the shaking growing worse with the contact.  

“Natasha I’m--.”

“Please Loki.  Not tonight, just . . . just go away.  Please.”  She buried her head in her arms, breathing shallowly.  Her heart had slowed down to its normal rate, and when she looked up she saw Loki staring piteously down at her.  She gritted her teeth.

“Get out!”

“You cannot order me out of my own building.”

“You gave it to me--it’s title is in my name.”

“You owe me, Natasha.”

The words rolled around in her head and her eyes widened as she stood, fury replacing her shock.  “I owe you?  You gave this to me.  You told me it was a gift--no strings attached!”  She said, trying to bring herself up to her full height.  Not that it made a big deal; he was so much taller than she was.  

“And now I’m saying that there are.”

“So you try to rape me instead when I tell you no, you do what you please just because I played the same game that you did in public.  That’s what you’re telling me?” She demanded.  “You may be a prince Loki, and you may have paid for this but I don’t want any of that, why can’t you seem to get it through your head?”

He stopped, confronted with the words she’d shot at him quick as an arrow.  Good, she hoped they stuck just as fast.  His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, his eyes looking down, before he looked up again to connect their gaze.  “My darling, I’m sorry.  I don’t know what got into me, and I . . . I have no excuse for my actions.  They were not becoming of me, and I should never have considered, well, I’m sorry.”  He tried to offer her his hand, and slowly she accepted it.  He pressed his lips to the back of her hand.  “I’m so, so sorry my Natasha.  I’ll go, now, I promise.  I, ah, I won’t return tonight, but tomorrow?”  If she hadn’t been so furious and so shaken a moment ago she might have believed him entirely; his gaze was sincere and never ending it seemed, but she couldn’t give in to that, not after what he’d just done.  

“Very well,” she said.  “Tomorrow.  Goodbye, Loki.”

“I l . . . I’m sorry,” he said, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before he left.  On the stairs she could hear Matthew questioning Loki about what happened, and the prince's voice was deep with disgust at having to explain himself. Their argument was quick and quiet but when Natasha poked her head out she noticed that Loki pushed his way past her helper. Well at least he wouldn't be here when Natasha went to bed.  Once she was sure he was gone she pulled herself together as best she could, wiping at her eyes and breathing deeply to calm her nerves.  She could do this; she had to do this.  She wasn’t about to let him get the best of her, wasn’t going to let Loki’s anger make her weak.  She’d shown him that she wasn’t about to bend just because he wanted something and if he didn’t get the message . . . she didn’t want to lose the tavern, but she’d do it if she had to.  

* * *

Loki didn’t come back the next day, or the one after that.  Thor did, and he was all smiles and kindness to her once again as though nothing had happened, though he did take her aside to ask about his brother, but Loki didn’t come back until the week was out.  Natasha tried not to get worried about it, though she couldn’t help but worry that one day, any day, she would be found out and her tavern--everything she’d worked so hard for--would be taken away.  It brought to mind the idea that she owed Loki, as he said.  She hated being in debt, especially indebted to a man that she was supposed to be if not romantically involved at least physically involved.  How did it make anything fair between them if she was in a constant state of worrying whether or not she’d paid him back in full.  The idea kept her awake at night, long after she should have gone to bed, and when he didn’t come back . . . well, she was terrified that she’d messed up.  

* * *

Two weeks went by before Loki called on her once again.  She went up to meet him immediately and was that a self-satisfied smirk she saw on his lips before she hugged him tight?  

“My darling I am so sorry it took me so long,” he said.  “But I wanted to give you enough time to think of what happened, and to give you enough distance.”  He pressed his lips slowly to hers.  “And to give myself time to think about what I’d done.  I’m so sorry.”  He said when he pulled away, his eyes never leaving hers.  “I’ll never do it again.”  

“Of course,” Natasha smiled, cupping the side of his face and smiling up at him.  “It’s just that, well, Loki you terrify me when you’re like that, and I thought that you’d taken what you said about me owing you to heart.  I could have sworn I’d heard the palace guards coming for me more than once.”

Loki’s laugh was quiet and his eyes were alight but somehow looked as though he was teasing her.  “Well then I’ll try not to terrify you, my love.  But I do not like it when you flaunt your attention for anyone else in front of me, you must stop.”

“I suppose I can try and calm down when it comes to that, but you must understand that’s how I make most of my tips.”  She reminded him, squeezing his bicep.  He tensed beneath her.    
“If it’s a question of money you know that I can pay for anything you need.”

“Loki, I like to work for what I have.  You already made it a point that I owed you, I don’t need to add to it when I can’t pay you back just yet.”

“Oh I don’t need money, and you’ll find a way to make it back up to me.”  He winked and pulled her further into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed so he could pile her in his lap.  His hands worked on the muscles in her back so that she was putty in his hands, a soft moan filtering out from her lips as he massaged her shoulders.  His lips trailed over the side of her neck, biting gently, and she was about to say something to him when there was a knock at the door.  They both paused, but it was Natasha who stood first.  

“No.  Sit down,” Loki said as he pulled her back down onto the bed.  “I’ll deal with it.”  

Natasha watched him, confused.  What the hell was he playing at?  If they were caught.  She swallowed her fears at the look he shot her, one that told her plain enough that she was to do as she was told, and watched as he stepped towards the door.  With slow fingers he undid the lock and pulled the door back.

“Matthew.  Do you not know better than to interrupt us?” Loki’s voice was a quiet growl that sent the man backtracking almost immediately.

“I know--I’m sorry it’s just that we got really busy and I could use some help.  Sorry, Madam.”  He said, looking past Loki at Natasha.  She shot him a small smile and readjusted the sleeves on her dress that Loki had moved to the side.  Loki’s eyes weren’t focused on her but on Matthew, who was fidgeting underneath his gaze.  

“Are you not capable enough of running this tavern on your own?  Shall I find a more suitable replacement?”

Matthew tensed, his eyes narrowed as he looked up at Loki, all fear disappearing to be replaced with indignation.  “I can do fine on my own, sir,” he growled.  “But I’m not a god--I cannot run everything when they’re looking for dinner and drinks and there are more people here than there have been in some time.  The prince Thor has brought a party and they’re asking for you as well.”  

Loki’s teeth set into a grimace.  “Well--.”

“Matthew I’ll be right down.”  Natasha cut him off, smiling as she stood.  Loki looked back to glare at her.  

“You can hold yourself off for an hour or two, can you not?” Natasha asked, stroking the side of his face and keeping him slowly.  He didn’t relax beneath her as she’d expected but simply gripped her by the elbows.  

“You’ll not supplant me for someone else’s attention.”

“I have a business to run, a business that you bought for me.  Allow me to repay your generous offer by earning you back your money.  Please my love.”  The last word forced itself from her lips but the way his eyes lit up when she said it, well, he wouldn’t deny her anything now.  It was terrible, and she felt her gut clench at the idea, but his smile was bright.  

“Very well.  I’ll see you soon, I hope.”  He tipped her chin up again to kiss her one final time, broken up only by Matthew’s nervous throat clearing.  She felt Loki tense in front of her at the sound, but after she placed one last sweet, short kiss on his lips before she left she thought he might have finally been won over.  If he was going to act childish about her working then she would have to utilize everything she had to convince him to allow her to work.  

As Matthew had told her the tavern floor was absolutely filled, and it was Thor’s table she paid attention to first, apologizing for her absence with a wide smile.  “I must beg your forgiveness my prince, I got caught up doing work upstairs and left poor Matthew to fend for himself.”  She said, refilling all of their glasses without taking so much as a penny for the product.  “It’s my fault for making you wait,” she said as she waved off their offers for money.  

Thor just grinned and shook his head.  “It is always well worth the wait, my lady.”

“Indeed.”  It was Fandral who spoke this time; Natasha recognized him from when he’d come with the large party at her first tavern, and it was evident that he recognized her as well.  “It’s always a pleasure to see you again, Natasha.”

“And you, good sir.”

“You remember me?” He asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.  

“Of course, sir.  How could I forget?”  She flashed him her widest smile before excusing herself to start on the rest of their orders, as well as the food for the other patrons.  She felt, rather than saw, Fandral’s eyes on her as she left and shivered once she was out of view.  It was a good thing Loki wasn’t there watching; she didn’t want to imagine what his reaction would be.

There was a scream of pain that came from the second story of the tavern that shocked Natasha out of what she was doing.  It came from near her room but it wasn’t Loki’s voice but sounded like--.

“Matthew.”  She swore and took off towards the stairs, pushing her way through the others that had already began to congregate.  

Her helper was on the floor, groaning and clutching at his eyes.  Loki had the door open in a heartbeat, staring out at the yowling young man, his face contorted in confusion and concern.  Nat hissed for him to retreat as heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.  Thor just missed the sight of Loki as he came to kneel beside the brown haired boy, knocking aside what looked like an iron poker to make room for himself.  

“What happened?”

“I can’t--I can’t see,” he cried, not pulling his hands from his eyes though tears were pouring from behind his fingers.  

Natasha’s stomach dropped.  “What do you mean you can’t see?”

“A man came up to me--I couldn’t make out his face--and he-he burned my eyes out.”  His voice was broken in pain, the words coming out in short spurts sandwiched by gasps of pain and disbelief.  “And I . . . I can’t see.”  

Natasha managed to pull his hands away from his eyes long enough to see the bloody pits where his eyes had been.  She pulled away, forcing herself not to throw up, and he went back to covering his hands up.  

“Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know.  Just a man who came up to me and asked for a room.  He took me in the one and gagged me, started a fire and I watched as he placed the poker in the flames until it was white hot, then he. . .”  He cut off there, body shaking as he tried not to lose what was left of his sanity.  Natasha came back and held him in her arms, rocking him a little as he was wracked with dry sobs.  

“I swear to you, Matthew, we will learn who did this and make them pay for it,” Thor said, his hand resting on the young man’s shoulder.  Nat turned her head ever so slightly to look at her room, the gears in her mind working.  Why did she have a terrible feeling that she knew exactly who had done it, or at least paid to have it done?  She swallowed back her fears, pressing her lips to the top of Matthew’s head and trying not to remember the way Loki had grown tense when he saw Matthew looking at Natasha.  Even he wasn’t capable of doing this, was he?  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Hope you enjoyed the chapter--I hate to say it but we're nearing the end of what I've got planned for this fic, so there should only be about three or so chapters left after this one. Holy crap; I can't believe it's gotten that far already. Again, thank you all so much for the support and I hope to keep entertaining you all with the rest of the story!


	11. Chapter 11

As though she hadn’t had enough to worry about, Matthew’s sudden blindness only made matters more complicated and confusing.  She promised to keep him on for as long as she could, and he surprisingly adapted to his blindness with more gusto than Natasha had ever thought possible.  Though she ended up having to hire another, especially when they got busy, between herself, Matthew, and the new hire they managed to limp along, and by the end of most nights Natasha was too exhausted to do much more than collapse into bed.  The investigation and questioning of those who could have blinded Matthew led nowhere, on top of that, which only added to her worry that she knew exactly who’d done it, or at least who’d hired someone to do it.  Loki wasn’t exactly helping his case, either, growing more and more possessive every day, more desperate for her attention, so much so that he began spending evenings out of the castle, away from his family and the wife who had more than likely taken notice of his absence.  

“What are you going to do when she confronts you about it?” Natasha asked as she pulled her boots off one night, fully prepared to sink into bed and drift off as soon as she could.  Not that she was optimistic about that; more often than not Loki kept her up and near screaming throughout the whole night.  She was getting better and better at hiding the bruises and sometimes even the scars when his nails cut her skin by accident.  She supposed this was what he had had in mind when he’d told her that Natasha would find a way to repay him.  

“She won’t.  Sigyn knows her place and it’s beneath her to dig or look into anything that I might be doing.”  He gave a quiet laugh.  “She hates me near as much as I hate her.”

“Then why did you two get married?”

“To appease her family, Natasha, we’ve been over this you silly girl.”  Nat bristled at the term.  She hated it when he belittled her.  “They wanted money and power and as the second son of the king I was in the best bartering position to give it, though I think she wanted to be Thor’s wife.  You should see the way she pines over him.”

“And how are he and the Lady Sif doing?”

“Why?  Curious about how come he’s not come to visit you anymore?”  There’s a sardonic, almost vengeful smirk on Loki’s lips when Natasha turns around that chills her blood.  

“No.  Just friendly conversation.  I thought there would be a wedding by now that is all.”

“Well it’s quite the scandal, actually.”  And Loki’s face couldn’t have been more gleeful as he recounted how his brother had gotten Sif pregnant before the wedding.  They’d been forced to be wed in secret, to protect Sif’s honor, and the fully ceremony would go through once she’d had the child.  No sense in having a dress made when she wouldn’t fit it three weeks later.  Natasha knew this already, but was hoping that keeping Loki talking would keep him from seeking to dominate her that evening.  Sometimes it even worked.  When he’d finished his story he eyed her pensively, brow drawn tight in confusion.  

“What?” She asked, pulling her arms around her midsection, admittedly a little self-conscious under his gaze.  

“Of all the times that we have coupled why are you not with child yet?” He asked, as though it was the first time he’d ever considered it.  

Natasha sucked in a quick breath of air.  Oh.  That story.  She hated it, and what was more she didn’t want to tell him.  It was her secret to keep, after all, and she tried to shrug it off as though she had no idea but he’d already seen the emotion flash through her eyes.  

“What happened?” He asked, voice quiet and surprisingly tender.  One of his hands traveled to the base of her neck (he seemed to have quite an obsession with it) and rubbed the skin gently.  Nat felt her nerves go lax and she let out a long groan of relief.  Well that was nice.  Unexpected, but nice.  

“My adoptive father was an asshole.”  That was putting it lightly.  “And he decided that the chances of me getting pregnant were too dangerous for the, ah, things he wanted from me.  As soon as I became a woman he took me to a doctor who specialized in preventing pregnancy.  Permanently.  The doctor in turn exposed me to a sickness that made it impossible for me to ever have children--he damaged my body beyond repair, almost killing me in the process.”  She took a shaky breath as Loki’s hand on the back of her neck tightened painfully.  He released her a moment later.  “Ivan was so . . . pleased.  He thoroughly tested me to make sure I could not concieve, both giving me to his friends and using me for himself.  I was fourteen.”  Her own hands had clenched into fists now.  “And it worked.  I’ve been infertile ever since.”  Not for lack of trying, she thought, considering the times that Alexei had lamented about not having children when they were first married.  He never knew about that story.  No one had known besides Natasha herself and Ivan, and the latter hadn’t told a soul for fear of being found out.  It wasn’t exactly legal to do that to one considered a legal adult, even if they were your ward.  And now Loki knew.  Judging by his face he was furious.  

“There is nothing that can be done to reverse the process?”  He asked, eyes darkening.  Natasha shook her head and laid back on her bed.  

“Nothing.  I’ve asked every doctor I could and they assured me that if it has not healed by now, if it is still as scarred and damaged as before, well, there’s not a thing that can be done.”  Natasha dropped her head a little, pulling her hands into her lap and twisting them as she considered his question.  Why, had he been hoping for children?  She couldn’t imagine what she’d do with a child if she was honest.  Otherwise she’d have had tons by then she was sure.  As if things hadn’t been difficult enough with her own mouth to feed, she would never have wanted to add a young mouth to feed to the list of things to worry about.  It was one of the few terrible things Ivan had done that was, well, practical.  Even if he used it for his own disgusting uses.

“Your adopted father is dead, correct?” Loki asked eventually, his eyes going dark.  Nat looked over just in time to catch it.  

“Yes.  Why, would you expose my secret to justify killing him, or at least imprisoning him?”  She asked, only half joking.  

He shook his head.  “No, I’d murder him with my own hands.”

And she didn’t doubt that.

She tried to turn the conversation to something else. "What about Sigyn? Doesn't she get concerned with you spending so much time here?" Natasha asked, looking over at Loki. They'd hardly said three words about his wife since they'd started seeing one another every day; Loki very much preferred to call her The Woman, not liking to use her name. It was probably not Natasha's finest moment as Loki's expression darkened further.

"I wish you wouldn't bring her up. You aren't jealous are you?"

"How can I be when you're here with me all the time?" She tried for a small smile and leaned over to kiss him. "Forget I said anything about her, it was stupid."

That appeased him, and for the evening his real duties to his real wife were forgotten, Natasha used to supplant her as she always had.

* * *

The real Sigyn, it seemed, was not keen on staying forgotten. Natasha had been wondering if it would ever come to the two meeting one another, and a few months after she'd been set up in the tavern the princess walked in, her elegant golden gown standing out from the dark brown surroundings, matching her hair so that it gave Natasha the unpleasant feeling of trying to stare at the sun the colors were so painfully bright.. The day was slow, so Natasha wasn't provided with an excuse to not see her, and with her heart pounding she walked over to offer the woman her best smile.

"My lady, it is an honor to serve you."

"Thank you for saying so. You are Natasha Romanov, are you not?"

Of course she knew who Nat was. Perfect. She intentionally blushed and went into her best curtsy. "You honor me my lady." She said.

"Oh nonsense. You have quite a reputation for being good at serving royals." Her voice dripped with innuendo. Nat gritted her teeth. "I thought I might see myself. You were at my wedding, correct?  WIth your husband?"

Natasha bristled at the mention of Alexei.  She’d been doing so well since she’d moved out and away from him, leaving him with his whore and his run down tavern, escaping from it as though it were a fairytale.  The mention of him was enough to remind her that reality was hardly ever that simple.  "I was." Natasha said, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Sigyn ignored the question. "Loki seemed quite enthralled with your presence. He even elevated your seating to that besides Pepper Stark."

"Sorry?"

"Oh, did she tell you to call her Virginia? Perhaps you two were not as close as you led on to believe." Sigyn's smirk was cutting and Natasha reverted back to her traditional blank stare. To challenge her would be too dangerous, especially if she had an idea that Loki and Natasha were together.  Natasha’s silence made the princess laugh, but the noise was devoid of any mirth.  

“Silly little peasant.  Did you truly think that you were in any way important to these people?  Perhaps you would have been if you had not spurned Steve’s advances--yes, I know about that.  Thor told me that the Lord Rogers had invited you to his party and I had hoped that you might move on to a single man with good prospects, but I suppose it is difficult for a slut such as yourself to branch out, is it not?  You’ve had a taste for royalty and you won’t settle for anything less, even if he is married.  Though, I suppose the sacred vows of marriage were not enough to stop you from comiting adultery and forsaking your own marriage.”  Her smile was as sinister as they came as she sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest and one eyebrow arched.  Had she not been blonde she might have looked the mirror image of Loki, as if she’d been picking up his mannerisms.  Natasha, meanwhile, had clenched her jaw down hard to keep herself from saying anything.  She didn’t want to spend an evening in the stocks, and mouthing off would be the quickest way there.  Likely that was Sigyn’s plan, trying to goad her into making a rash remark or statement.  Natasha valued her life over her pride, however, and was not about to give Sigyn the satisfaction, and so she bent her head and murmured her apologies to the princess, explaining that she had no idea what she was talking about.  

“I was invited to Lord Roger’s estate for some time, yes, and I did reject his advanes, but I know not of your other accusations my lady.”  Her eyes rose to meet Sigyn’s, the only form of defiance she could muster without losing her head.  It made Sigyn’s self-satisfied smirk falter, replaced with a heavy scowl.

“You look just like him, you little whore.”  She spat, standing to face Natasha head on.  They were evenly matched as far as height went, and though Sigyn was dressed more finely in every way she looked rather uncomfortable to be standing so close to Natasha, while the tavern owner was learned in keeping her true emotions behind a wall.  If she was not, well, it was likely she would have ripped the bitch’s hair out moments ago.  “Does he think that running around with some back room wench will make me jealous, is that what he’s after?  Or does he buy you things and pretend to love you so he can abuse you in bed while he’s been nothing but a gentleman to me on the many times we’ve been together?” She asked, her eyes flashing with the last words.  

Natasha was nearly positive this was a lie.  Loki spent far too many evenings with her to be visiting Sigyn as often as she seemed to claim, not that it was any of Natasha’s business whether or not he coupled with his wife.  She was his wife after all, and Natasha the consort, but the idea burned in her gut.  He could get jealous over her talking with other men, even burn Matthew’s eyes out for looking at her, but the moment he returned to the castle he laid with this cow?  Steve’s words came back to her once more, reminding her that Loki was not exactly the easiest of lovers, and the blond man’s suggestion that he’d been looking for someone to take out his aggressions and more base desires out on began to seem more plausible.  Sigyn must have read it in her eyes because she burst out laughing.  One of her hands reached to tug the scarf that Natasha wore so frequently now but the redhead pulled away before she could.  

“Remove it.”  Sigyn ordered.

“My lady--.”

“Now, or I’ll have the guards come and hold you down so they can do it for you.  I’d like to see you worm your way out of that, you whore, but you’d undoubtedly like it too much.”

Her sight going red and her fingers trembling from restraining herself from punching the woman in the face she removed the scarf, showing not only that it was Loki’s but also that her neck was covered in bruises and marks where the prince had bit and sucked at her flesh just last night.  He’d bit so hard that he drew blood on one of them, the mark angry and swollen.  Sigyn’s eyes flashed.  

“You’ll pay for what you’ve done to my husband,” she growled, taking the scarf from Natasha’s hands and balling it in her hands.  She didn’t say another word as she left, slamming the door of the tavern shut so hard that Natasha jumped, and the attention of the few other patrons homed in on where Nat was standing, as though looking for an explanation.  Natasha felt her cheeks heat up as she watched their eyes progress from her own to the marks on her neck and with quick feet she hurried up the stairs to pull out a cover up scarf of her own.  

Shit.  

* * *

She brought up the encounter to Loki the next time he came to visit her, insisting that he return back to the castle.  “It’s too dangerous,” she murmured against his insisting lips.  They’d long since closed down for the night and he’d snuck in using the spare key she’d had forged for him.  “Loki, I’m being honest.  If she has proof that you come here each night, that you and I couple, then that’s enough to get me arrested and tried for being a witch.”

“I’ll never let that happen,” he promised her, kissing her hard again.  “I love you Natasha, I’d never let anything bad happen to you.  Ever.”  

Somehow she had a hard time believing that he had complete control over every event that happened within her life, but he silenced anything else she had to say with another forceful kiss and a handful of her backside as he pulled her up onto the bar she’d just been cleaning.  The memory of the first time they’d coupled, when he’d come back late the day she’d first met him, came surging back, making her moan as he separated her legs and undid the buckle of his belt to swiftly push into her.  He swallowed her gasps of pleasure as his lips fused over hers and his hands ripped down the sleeves of her dress, showing off her shoulders and allowing him to sink his teeth into them once he’d abandoned her lips.  She whimpered, the pain mixing with the pleasure, and threw her head back to hiss his name, fingers threading through his hair.  His pace was punishing, nearly as painful as the bites he was tracing down her shoulders.  

Neither one of them noticed Alexei standing on the other side of the street, his eyes hard as he watched his wife and her lover make love on the bar.  When Natasha pulled Loki’s head backwards he had all the proof he needed, setting off immediately for the palace.  The princess had promised him sufficient gold for his time and information, enough to allow him to live comfortably for the rest of his life, and now that Yelena had a child on the way, well, the money would do wonders.  

* * *

Loki had left early that morning, kissing Natasha goodbye and promising her that he’d do his best not to make it too obvious when he came to visit her.  She did her best to smile, though her heart was still heavy.  Everything he did was obvious, it seemed.  When she’d first met him he’d been so discreet but now . . . now it was as if he wanted to get caught.  Did he think that if Sigyn saw him as a cheater she might leave him alone?  Somehow Natasha doubted that, she thought as she washed and dressed herself.  The princess wouldn’t have come to visit her if she was interested in letting Loki go.  

Downstairs, just before they opened, she could hear a pair of raised voices and what sounded like threats, but not from Loki this time.  Matthew and someone else, male, and important sounding.  Curiosity piqued, Natasha finished lacing up her usual corset, smoothed out her skirt, and made her way out of her room.  She wished she hadn’t.  Four armed guards were pushing past her two helpers, Matthew still crying out that they had no reason to be there so early when the tavern hadn’t yet opened, but nothing he said made any difference.  The captain of the guard’s eyes stopped on Natasha.  Nicholas Fury was a good man, she’d worked with him when they were attempting to find out who had harmed Matthew in her tavern, though this time around he looked a great deal less in the mood for guessing games and looked, well, nearly apologetic.  She swallowed hard and stared at him as she made her way down the stairs.  

“Nick, it is good to see you again.”  She tried for her best smile.  “What can I do for you four gentlemen?  Have you news of Matthew’s attacker?”

“No, my lady, I am sorry to say that is not why we have come.”  And he sounded regretful.  His one good eye stared hard into hers and she felt as though she was a sponge being wrung out, as though her secrets might spill forth just as simply.  

“Oh?  What can I help you with?”

“We’re here to arrest you, my lady, though it grieves me to say.  Will you come quietly?”

Her mouth went dry and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.  She knew it.  Shit.  “Me?”  Her laugh was airy and almost believable.  “What am I accused of, Nick?”  

“Adultery, and seduction of the Prince, Loki Odinson, of leading him astray from his wife and from God.  We have been told to bring you to the dungeons, my lady.  If you come willingly this need not resort to violence or force on our behalf.”  He said this as though she had a choice, and she had to admire the way he spoke.  He always was so good at making it seem as though one wanted to do what he told them to.  He was nearly as talented as Loki.  She swallowed hard and nodded.  

“Yes.  Of course.  Please, Nick, lead the way.  I have nothing to fear, and I am sure that this will all get sorted out very quickly.”

“Of course Natasha.”  He shook his head at the other four guards, two of which were glancing at Matthew and Natasha’s other bar-hand, both of which were standing stock still in their confusion.  She instructed them, as she was led from the building, to close down for the day and to take the spare money and divide it among themselves for their wages.  

“And Matthew--find Magnus.  Tell him what happened.  He’ll know what to do.”  She swallowed hard.  It was likely that Loki would hear one way or another, whether through Sigyn’s gloating or from being in the palace, but she hoped that if Matthew could get the word to him quickly then he might be able to come up with some defense, something to keep her safe.  He’d promised, after all.  

They’d attracted a small crowd as the guards escorted her through the streets, and from over Nick Fury’s shoulder she could see Alexei smirking from the side.  Her own eyes narrowed.  He pushed closer, voice low as he rasped: “I told you not to make an enemy of me, Natasha.  You should’ve been more faithful.  Whore.”  

His words set the crowd into a frenzy, those around her calling out similar curses.  Some even threw stones, cutting Natasha’s body where they hit her.  She cried out and the guards closed in around her; Nick warned them to keep this peaceful or else he’d send the rest of his guards out to deal with those who were responsible.  It did nothing for the catcalls and jeers that followed her into the castle, where she was led down to the dungeons, put in a cell, and locked in.  It was cold, dark, and she settled herself on the stone ground, looking up at her one, barred window.  Only when the last guard had left, the door slamming shut behind him, did she let herself break down into sobs, shoulders heaving and lungs burning as she cried harder than she had ever done in her life.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here comes the drama. Hope you enjoy, and thanks so much for all the support! I've got two more days off in a row so if I get lucky I'll be able to get some more of the next few chapters done!


	12. Chapter 12

Judging by how many sun rises and sets Natasha had watched from her one window a week had passed and still she’d heard nothing.  She was fed twice a day, once in the morning the next at night, and the rest of the time she spent curled up in a ball internally screaming at herself.  How could she have been so stupid?  Sigyn had practically laid it out in front of her--and hadn’t Natasha known this would happen from the beginning, when she learned who Magnus really was?  She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling and to concentrate on the pain rather than the building pressure behind her eyes.  No.  She wasn’t going to cry, and she managed to keep it that way since the first day she’d been thrown in her cell.  Matthew had tried to visit once; she’d heard his voice from the top of the stairs, but the guards hadn’t let him through.  Her heart had twinged at the sound of his voice.  He was sweet for trying, and she wondered if he’d gotten through to Loki.  

If he had why hadn’t the prince come to see her yet?  He’d been so keen to keep in contact with her outside, why was it so different now that she was a prisoner?  If he loved her like he said he did why wasn’t he trying to save her, trying to work out a way to get her out of there?

She tried telling herself that he was, that he was absent because he was doing everything he could to free her from her prison, and for the first two days it had gotten her through the cold nights curled up on the stone ground, shivering and longing for a bed, even the one she’d shared with Alexei, or Ivan so long ago.  Just about anything would be preferable.  After the week was out she gave up hoping, forcing herself to calm down as she went through the facts in her head.  They were all she had now, as it was.  Sigyn obviously had enough evidence to have her arrested, but where was her trial?  Would she even get one, considering she was a peasant and Sigyn a princess?  Unfortunately her word would hold for so much more than Natasha’s could ever hope, but if Loki spoke on her behalf, well, then maybe there was hope there for her.  Would he, though?  Would he own up to their affair and put his family through even more shame (not that she thought he gave much of a damn about that, especially not after the way he’d treated his wedding)?  

These were the questions keeping her up late every evening, keeping company with the rats and other vermin that scuttled to and from, picking at the food she didn’t have the heart to eat while her thoughts picked away at her sanity.  She was sure she would die here, or at least not make it back out.  What would happen to the tavern, to Matthew and the others that she employed?  She bit back a cry of frustration, trying not to consider how she’d let them down.  God, why hadn’t she just stayed away from him?  How could she have been so stupid?

Or at least why didn’t she take Steve’s offer?  That question buzzed around her head more often than she liked to admit, and she beat the ground until her hands were bloody with her frustration at herself.  What a proud, arrogant fool she was, picking the man who was the worst one for her because he was the most exciting.  Because Steve would have been safe, would have kept her safe and away from the dungeons.  

God above she was an idiot.  

* * *

Another three days passed before she got a visitor.  The footsteps at the odd time had her sitting up in no time, her eyes wide and brushing her matted red hair out of her face.  There was hardly enough light to see by but--.

“Steve,” she breathed, sounding more relieved than she could have imagined.  Even if his face was twisted in a look of pity and disbelief (and was that the smallest hint of condescension in his eyes?) he was a sight for sore eyes.  

“Natasha.  What happened?” He asked, voice quiet as he listened for the door being shut behind him.  Once it was he knelt down on the other side of the bars and Nat crawled over towards him.  He offered her his hand and she squeezed it, marveling at how warm he was.  

“I got found out.”  The words came out mixed in a humorless laugh.  “You told me I was playing a dangerous game and you were right.  So right, Steve, I’ve been so stupid and I’m sorry for what I said to you, did to you.”  She hung her head, hair falling in front of her eyes.  She felt better after getting the words out, having mulled over them for her whole sentence here.  She’d thought over a lot.  

He squeezed her hand.  “Hey, we all make mistakes do we not?”  He asked, reaching through the bars with his other hand to tip her chin upwards.  “Have you heard anything about your trial?”

“I don’t know if there will be one,” she murmured, biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.  “They haven’t told me anything besides that I was here for having an affair with the prince.  Sigyn knows.”

Steve let out a low curse, the first she’d ever heard from him, and her eyes went wide as she looked up.  That wasn’t good.

“Loki hasn’t done a thing about it,” he muttered.  “I didn’t know Sigyn was behind the whole thing, but if he doesn’t speak for you then the case is nearly a done deal.  Unless.”  He sounded so hopeful that it nearly made Natasha’s heart soar.  He had a solution?  He really was heaven sent.  “I don’t know if it would be enough to free you, but if we can convince the judge, his father, that he was the one who came to you, who actively sought you out . . . it might be enough to punish him as well.  Then he’d be forced to tell the truth and recant, or else his neck is on the line as well.”  He noticed the way she flinched and apologized.  “That was insensitive of me, apologies.”  

“No it’s fine.  I’ve been thinking the same thing--about the situation.  There’s really no way I can get out of it alive, is there?”  She looked up at him, begging him for the truth.  The sooner she accepted it . . . well, she wasn’t going down without a fight.  No way, no how.  And she certainly wasn’t going to go down for this alone, either.  “Even if he somehow manages to recant and go against what Sigyn says there’s already proof that he and I had an affair.  That’s enough to get me hung.”

Steve’s head hung low at her words and she doesn’t need him to confirm that she’s right; he’s already done that.  She felt her stomach clench as the rest of the hope left her body, replaced with a slow burning anger.  How dare Loki put her in this situation when she told him to be cautious, when she told him that he shouldn’t be coming to see her so often because it was too obvious?  He’d never had to worry about his neck being on the line, and he’d certainly not mourn her for very long.  The thoughts racing through her brain were enough to make her cheeks burn with indignation at the way it had all played out.  

Part of her wondered if Loki hadn’t planted the idea in Sigyn’s head to go visit Natasha herself.  

“I want to do that,” she said suddenly, making Steve snap his head back up.

“Do what?”

“I want him to be in the same situation as I am.  I want his family to know that he came to me and that he tried to seduce me, and that yes I slept with him but he instigated.  How can I do that?” She asked, her eyes searching his.  If it meant she had to memorize a story or a certain way of telling it then she could do it; Ivan always had complimented her on her acting.  It had gotten her out of trouble in the past and now it was going to assure her revenge.  Loki thought he could get away with screwing her then letting her die?

He’d messed with the wrong woman.

“I need to speak with Thor about it.  He knows as much as I about Loki’s behavior in the past and his history with women, so that will be on your side,” Steve assured her, squeezing her hand.  

Nat gave him a quick smile.  “Steve, you are by far one of the best men I’ve ever met, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate everything that you’ve ever done for me and are doing now.  Truly.  I don’t deseve it.  But please don’t lie to me to make me feel as though things are going to go back to the way they were.”  She took a deep breath.  “I’m going to die.  I’ve come to terms with this.  I’m . . . coping with it.  But I want Loki to go down with me.  If he thinks he can get away with playing me for a fool then letting me take the fall for something he started then he’s going to find out he’s sorely mistaken.”  She wetted her lips, trying to think of how else to say what was on her mind.  “I realize that this is a lot to ask for and I’m sorry, but I don’t have anyone else, Steve, and you’ve been there for me even when I don’t deserve it.  I couldn’t have asked for anything more, and I’ll have to try and find some way of thanking you even . . . even though I’m going to be dead soon.”

He squeezed her hand once more, jolting her attention back to the appendage.  She’d hardly realized he was still holding it.  “I just want to see justice done,” he assured her.  “It’s not fair what they’re doing to do, so to see Loki pay for what he’s unjustly done to you will be payment enough.  I’ve not been a fan of his, you know that as well as I do, and even though the punishment will be severe, for what he’s done to you and what he’s going to put you through?  It’s no less than he deserves.”  

Natasha smiled and leaned closer, pressing her lips lightly against the side of his cheek, which was just close enough.  “You’re so good to me, Steve.  Too good.  I don’t deserve you as an ally, let alone as a friend.”

“I know,” he muttered with a quiet chuckle.  

He doesn’t leave until they have a plan in mind.  He’s certain he can get Thor to testify for the hearing, and as the son of the king and heir to the kingdom his words will come out the strongest.  They’ll detail how it was Loki who was found in the tavern, having advanced on Natasha, not the other way around, and Steve would back it up.  Natasha confessed that that wasn’t the first time they’d been in a compromising situation, but Steve shook that off.  “Even if he says that you made the first move on that evening, putting you in a compromising situation the very next day doesn’t look good for him, and we need to ensure that the King realizes that his son is as much at fault as anyone else.”

“If not more,” Nat muttered.  Steve just smiled.

After the pair of them testified, Steve intended on bringing up the gala and how Loki had insisted on holding Natasha’s attention the entire evening, how he’d dragged her from all her other partners and eventually into a private room.  How, Steve was “convinced” that he’d somehow bewitched her into leaving her husband and moving into a separate tavern, which Natasha would explain was his.  They would explain away the title being in her name by bringing in Alexei, who, as the coin keeper for their first bar, would explain that they hadn’t had enough money to afford buying a second property.  Which could only put the idea that Loki had bought it for Natasha, or at least provided the money, into Odin’s head.

Natasha just hoped it worked.  It had to work.  If she went down for this alone she’d never leave Loki alone.  She’d force herself to turn into a ghost or something and haunt he and Sigyn.  That almost made dying sound worth it; after all it was going to happen either way, why not make the most of it?  

Steve left her with one last squeeze and a brief kiss on Natasha’s forehead from between the bars.  “Please stay as safe as you can.  If he comes to see you don’t tell him any of this.  Don’t gloat.  I need it to be a surprise so he doesn’t have time to create a story to tear ours apart.  Yes?”

“I want nothing more to do with him; that sounds perfect, Steve.  Thank you.”  She smiled at him one last time before he stood and headed back up the stairs and away.  

Why hadn’t she taken his offer the first time around?  

* * *

In the time it took to hear back from Steve Loki finally came to visit her.  It wasn’t a full day after Steve had come to see her and they’d made plans for how to entrap Loki when the door opened again and Nat’s heart did a flip flop.  She’d recognize the sound of his voice anywhere, she thought, as she heard him speaking quietly to the guards to leave them alone.  They must have been instructed to keep a close eye on the two, especially now that Sigyn must’ve thought her a seductress or witch or something trite and ridiculous.  He made it down the stairs in record time and his face could have convinced the hardest cynic that he was sincere when he said: "My darling, my love I am so sorry for this. What Sigyn has said about you and led the others to believe is ridiculous and my father will see right through it."

Natasha smiled. There was a hint of panic in his voice, and he took her smile as good news and so he pressed on. "This counter trial that you and Rogers have planned will only lend credibility to Sigyn's accusations, we cannot have that happen. Allow me to schedule a private conference between myself and Odin and you. He will see reason and set you free." He stared into her eyes as he talked, smiling and taking her hand through the bars. "I can get you out of there."

He was a talented liar but Natasha knew better now, and she would never fall for that again. But it was better to feign ignorance. "You could do that?" She asked, her eyes wide as she tried to look surprised. "I just wanted Odin to know that you loved me, and you said you wanted to only be with me. I thought it might help my case, that and I could tell him that you asked me first."

Loki's face paled ever so slightly and she knew she hit the target. Good.

“Natasha, if you do that then you and I will both be in greater trouble than you know.”  His voice was quiet and his hand stuck through the bars to take hers in his.  “Please, stop this planning.  You know Rogers hates me, and you know he’ll do anything to get back at me but this time he has gone too far.  He cares not for your safety if he makes you go through with this.  Please listen to me my love, I would not lie to you.”

It’s Natasha who broke eye contact first, unable to listen to him chatter any longer.  She wanted to believe him, God knew she did.  He was practically begging her to and it pulled at her heart to know that what she was planning to do would end him as well.  But she’d listened to her heart for too long and look at where it had gotten her.  She took a deep breath, forcing her resolve to grow hard and looked up at him.  

“I’ll talk to him when he comes back to visit me.  Why haven’t you been until now?  I’ve been begging for you, I sent Matthew to find you.  Why didn’t you come visit me, Loki?”  It’s an accusation without her having to say much else.  Across her he stiffened ever so slightly and when he turned his head to look down she noticed something purple peeking out of the corner of his collar.  Something that looked very familiar to what she used to leave behind after they’d coupled, but much more fresh.  Her gut clenched.  That son of a bitch.  She bit down on her tongue to keep herself from lashing out, wanting to strangle or throttle or perhaps a mix of the two until he was cold and limp in her arms.  He loved her?  The ass didn’t even know the meaning of the word and she pulled away a little.  No.  She must pretend that everything is fine or all would be lost.  He’d come up with a convincing story ahead of time, pay for others to say things that hadn’t happened, and she alone would suffer.  

That was never going to happen.  

“I have been trying to reconcile with Sigyn and Odin, trying to put this matter out of their minds and make them dismiss it, but Odin is insistent on getting it settled.”  He sighed and tried pulling her back.  She let him, though it was beginning to make her skin crawl.  She’d heard the prince called Silvertongue before, and from the way they’d coupled she thought it simply was a reference to how talented he was with his tongue when it came to love making.  She often forgot how talented he was at lying as a result; that mistake would never happen again.  

"And what does your wife say?"

Loki scowled. "Do not call her that."

"But I must; she's made it so clear that I am nothing to you." Natasha feigned a small sob, as if it hurt her to admit.

He held fast to her arm, face very serious. "You are everything to me." He told her, bending to press his lips to the back of her hand. "I love you and I always shall."

Just not enough to beg for her life it seemed, or even try. She had a difficult time believing anything he said, but bit her bottom lip and nodded, thanking him. He didn't stay for much longer than that, and though she was angry at him she was sorry to see him go. It had been better than being alone.

* * *

In three days time she came to trial, escorted by Nick Fury, who had squeezed her shoulder gently just before they entered. She thanked him with a small smile before the doors were pushed open and he walked her down the throne room. There were few people congregated, Thor and Steve with a beautiful dark haired woman, her protruding belly the only tell tale sign that it was Sif, Frigga the queen at Odin's side, and of course Loki and Sigyn. Steve shot Natasha a small smile, encouraging her as best he could without another word, and when Natasha returned it Loki's face contorted with a glare. The exchange didn't go missed by Odin, either, who cleared his throat.

Once she was in place standing in front of the king Nick read the charges: adultery, conspiring against the princess, and witchcraft and sorcery. Nat tried not to roll her eyes against the middle one. Really? No one spoke for a full minute after the charges were read, and only then did Odin sit forward.

"From what I have learned you and Lord Rogers have compiled a case. I wish to hear it. How do you plead?"

"Guilty to the first charge, your highness." She said with a small bow. "But not the second and third."

"But you knowingly committed adultery with my son, Loki Odinson."

"I did your highness."

"And when did this begin?"

"The week prior to his marriage to Sigyn."

"And you are married yourself, are you not Mrs. Romanov?"

She but back a sigh. "Yes, sir, I am. I was entered into an arranged marriage when I was sixteen."

They went back and forth with the questions until Natasha had spilled nearly every fact about herself to the king. By the time Steve came to testify Loki was furious, Natasha doing exactly what he told her not to do. She was insisting that he had propositioned her, and he'd done his best to make his father think the opposite. Steve and Thor's testimonies only solidified that further, and when it came time for Loki to talk he was shaking with rage. Sigyn was glaring at Natasha, who was doing her best to look remorseful, not that it was hard. She felt terrible for throwing Loki to the wolves like that. Awful. But he'd done it to her first; this was simply fair play, and she was all for getting her own revenge. After everything had been heard Odin required some time to think everything over. Steve crossed to stand by Natasha but Loki got there first.

"What the hell was that about?" He demanded.

Natasha shrugged, forcing her emotions deep into her belly. "You've done nothing but lie to me and I'm done with it, and with you. This is simply pay back." Her eyes narrowed as she forced herself to stay strong. She could do this, had to do it. She wasn't going to take the fall for everything.

"I told you I would fix it!"

"How can you when you've already moved on?" She asked. "Loki, you say you love me but you don't know the meaning of the word. You never have, and I'm not about to let you walk off just because you spin a few pretty lies above my head."

He growled and lifted his hand to slap her. The sound of his name being shouted by his mother stopped him, though Nat flinched all the same. "My father will never allow for it. I'll be exiled but you will meet your end. I'll guarantee it." He threatened, all pretense gone. That hurt the most, Natasha decided as she watched him turn away from her. She swallowed hard and looked over at Steve, who had crossed to stand beside her.

"Good luck with that one, Rogers. She's damaged goods." Loki snarled, his taunt cutting deeper than Natasha cared to admit. It was childish, she knew, but it still hurt. For a man who once said he loved her he certainly knew how to break her down.  She reminded herself that that was exactly the reason why she never let herself feel the same; this vulnerability was dangerous enough as it was.  

Steve growled, the sound low in his throat as he wrapped one arm around Natasha’s shoulders.  “Are you well enough to go through with this?” He asked, as if there was some sort of chance that they could back out.  She tried not to give a harsh laugh at that idea.  

“I don’t get a choice now, do I?” She asked, voice humorless as she looked up at him.  What did he expect her to say?  He looked sheepish and gave a small shrug, as though he just realized what he’d asked her.  “Steve I’ll manage through this.  I promise.  It’ll . . . well, I hope you’ll be able to know if it’s all worth it in the end.”  She tried giving him a small smile that he did his very best to return, though it was clear none of them felt it.  She leaned forward to brush her hand across his cheek before Odin stepped back inside and Steve retreated back to his spot. Nat took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as she watched the king move to stand in front of her, sizing her up with his one good eye.  She gulped, feeling very young all of a sudden, as though she were a child being rebuked by a distant relative.  

Except this one held all the power and was no relative of hers, and therefore held no emotional or societal bond.  

“Natasha Romanov, I hereby find you guilty of the act of adultery.  In three days time you will be executed in the town square for your crimes against your husband, and against the princess Sigyn of the land.”  

Natasha felt her knees go weak and so did her best to stand up straighter, feeling her legs lock up.  No, she wouldn’t fall, wouldn’t show even that amount of weakness.  A few tears dripped from her eyes but she nodded all the same to show her understanding.  This had been what they’d thought would happen, wasn’t it?  

To her great surprise Odin also turned to Loki, his eye narrowed.  “Loki Odinson, you have beguiled and led this woman to her death.  For your lack of judgement and your clear disregard for human life, for your cruel torment of this woman and her husband, and for your own wife who you vowed to love and to cherish, I hereby cast you out from our family.  You, too, will be executed alongside Mrs. Romanov--.”

There was a cry of despair from Frigga, who’d gone rigid at the sentence. Thor’s eyes went wide, and Sigyn fell to the ground in a cold faint.  Only Loki remained stoic, his hands balled into fists at his sides.  “May God have mercy on both of your souls.”  Odin finished before sweeping out of the hall.  Before he left he ordered for both Loki and Natasha to be led to the dungeon where they were to await their execution.  

As she was being led from the hall, trailing behind Loki, her eyes met Steve’s from where he’d rushed to help Sigyn.  His own showed a similar feeling, an acceptance of what had happened.  They’d done it.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did say that this wasn't going to have a happy ending, didn't I? I just don't think it would fit with all the characterization and the pot that I had working. Besides, Nat's not about to take the fall for everything.   
> Thank you all for sticking with me for this long, and I hope this turn of events doesn't put you off; we've only got one more chapter to go!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the end. Thank you all so, so much for all your support and I am thrilled that you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it! I hope I don't kill you with the feels, and again you are all amazing for all your feedback.  
> Enjoy!  
> EDIT: I fixed the ending, I hope, and hopefully it makes more sense? If not I can try and clarify further. Sorry about that!

Loki was brought back to the dungeons with Natasha and placed in the cell next to her. They had three days left, to be spent together, before the end.  The man was silent for a good portion of the first few hours, and despite the situation Natasha couldn’t help but think that the tension between them felt more like a lover’s quarrel than anything else.  She stayed quet as well, not wanting to be the first to give in.  Besides, she was sure he’d have more to say than she did.  She’d gotten all of her anger out before the trial; he was the one left with the stewing emotions while Natasha had made peace with the situation.  It was a comforting relief to, for once, be somewhat in control of the situation.  In the silence she heard the sound of footsteps pacing back and forth on the stone floor.  He was likely denying that this was evening happening.  He thought Odin’s mind would be changed and that he would be saved.

If it was, well, then the king wasn’t as unbiased and fair as he tried to lead his subjects to believe.  Not that it would make a difference to anyone but her.  

The sun had already set and Natasha had curled into her customary ball in preparation of falling asleep when the pacing stopped and he finally spoke.  

“How did you know I did not mean it?”  His voice was quiet, pensive, and took her immediately off guard.  She’d expected anger, curses to be thrown at her, not civilized conversation.  

“When you said you loved me?” She clarified.  

“Yes.”

She breathed deep, stretching out as she saw her chances of sleep dwindling and contemplated how best to tell him.  “Steve loves me, I know that now, and despite everything I put him through he was the only one who came to me when I needed it.”

“Rogers is a bleeding heart--he would’ve done it for anyone,” Loki spat.

“You didn’t, though.”  The accusation is quiet and yet rings between them.  “For all your words and your confessions and your passion, you know you don’t love me.  Perhaps you love the idea of me, perhaps my body, or even it’s my ability to empathize with you and what has happened, but you don’t love me.”  She swallowed audibly, listening to his ragged breathing on the other side of the wall and trying to picture him.  He was likely standing, legs in his wide, customary stance, hands balled into fists at his side as he tried to compartmentalize his anger and indignation at the situation and at her words.  It made her stomach tighten, knowing that she’d hurt him, because even after everything he’d done to her she still very much cared for him, but she wasn’t going to be the only one to pay for what had happened.  Natasha was very much a firm believer in equality, especially in this case.  

“I think I might have loved you at one time, or at least as close to it as I could,” he admitted after more silence had made the air difficult to breathe in, growing heavy and ripe with accusations and history, words being hollowed out and promises disappearing into thin air.  

She knew that, or at least guessed at it.  “It was easy when you did, but once things grew more difficult and complex you isolated yourself.  It’s not your fault because I do the same thing, but you can’t . . . You didn’t defend me, Loki.  You left me to die because it was too difficult to go up against your wife, even though you hated her.  You didn’t fight for me.”

His lack of an answer is all she needs to know that she’s entirely right, and it makes her flip over onto her other side, trying to get as far away from him as possible.  It doesn't make it hurt any less just because she knew what was coming. He was quiet for some time after that and she wondered if he'd fallen asleep, if he even could being the spoiled prince that he was. Bastard probably never had to sleep on anything less than a feather mattress his whole life. She, however, had had a life full of discomfort; why should the days leading up to her death be any different?

"Did you know I was lying to you about why Sigyn and I were getting married?"

She barely stifled a groan, having been on the cusp of sleep when he pulled her back. "No. Why are you telling me all of this?" It certainly wasn't making the situation any better.

"Because not many people know and . . . I want to try and be honest with you."

"It's a little late for that," she muttered under her breath, shifting to pull her legs up to her chest, still on her side. Why bother now?

"Yes, and with anyone else it might not matter but I can say now that I want you to know the truth." He sounded sincere, but she was used to that. When didn't he sound sincere, especially when he was trying to get his own way? "There was no handmaiden I was trying to impress. It was Sigyn. She wouldn't leave me alone, and I'd read somewhere that, if I could just convince her to come with me there was supposedly a spell that would banish her. But it needed her blood. I managed to convince her that I'd fallen in love and wanted her to follow me so I might give her a token of my affection. When she did I knocked her out and cut into her, trying to keep her away. I didn't realize until later that the book was very literal, and had Thor and Rogers not found us by some lucky mishap I would have killed her." Here he took a shuddering breath. "My father was livid, threatened to have me hanged for what I'd done and I deserved no less. Her parents, however, saw a fortune to be made and demanded that she and I marry to make up for it, all after the medics had managed to save her and undid what I'd done. I was in such a state of shock I accepted."  He was quiet a little longer, as though he was contemplating what next to say.  “That’s what this is.  Her revenge on me, and you got pulled into the middle of it.”

“You dragged me into it.  You could have left well enough alone after one night,” Natasha shot back, one hand curling into a fist. How dare he make it look like this was Sigyn’s fault when he just confessed to her what he’d done to earn her scorn?  “You’re lucky you're not dead.  If anyone other than a royal had done that they’d have been hanged or burned.”

“If I hadn’t been born a royal Sigyn wouldn’t have been forced upon me and I’d have been able to marry who I chose.”  He countered, voice edgy.  

Natasha snorted.  Hadn’t they had this conversation before?  “You have no idea what it’s like to be a commoner, what actually goes into our marriages.  You either get sold off to the highest bidder if you are a woman and your father has any sort of say in it and  you learn to deal with someone who you may not know and may not even like.  You know what my husband is like.  You truly think you have it off worse than me because you were forced into a marriage for nearly killing the woman?” Her voice was a low hiss and as the words passed her lips she felt any sort of remorse or sorrow for what she was doing fade away as well.  Sigyn owed her, whether or not she thought of it that way.  If it hadn’t been for Natasha she’d still be married to the creep.  

“And you think it’s easier being a royal?  Families throw their daughters at you, telling them to do anything and everything to capture our interest.  Most of them are too shy or too young to do anything but the ones that do never leave.  You’re never given a moment’s peace because everyone wants what you have, what you’ve always had no matter if you desire it or not, and they seek you out to try and beguile you not because they enjoy who you are as a person but because they seek and look out only for themselves.”  Loki was just as angry, it turned out, his voice cutting through the brick wall between them as if it wasn’t there.  Natasha rolled her eyes.  Forgive her if she didn’t exactly feel sorry for him but at least he never had to worry about the abuse, the pain of not being able to make ends meet and having your husband look at you as though you were a failure, of finding him in bed with another woman--.

Oh, wait.  He did know what it was like, although it was from Alexei’s point of view.  As she laid there considering that she grew more furious not only with the prince opposite her but with herself.  Hadn’t she been hurt by Alexei’s betrayal with Yelena, and yet there she was doing the same thing?  Something inside of her twisted uncomfortably and she let out a low growl.  Damn him, and damn herself.  She was an idiot.

She didn’t say anything for the rest of the night, stewing on her latest revelation and feeling more of an idiot for not having come to the realization sooner.  She didn’t think what she’d done deserved death, because if so there were a great many men and women that should be put to the rope as well, but it didn’t sit well with her any longer.  She’d been so blinded by what she wanted to believe, that someone had cared for her at least in some strange way.  The sex had been great and the man as charming as ever when he began, but looking back at it she would take it back if she could.  

There were a great many things she’d take back if she could, many decisions she’d undo, and wrongs she’d right if only she had the power.  

“Why me?”  She hadn’t really thought about the question until the end of the second day.  They’d already spent most of the day in silence, neither wanting to speak to the other about what they’d already talked about.  There was too much bad blood between them, it seemed, and though Nat was skeptical about this question she couldn’t help herself.  He’d never given her a real answer all the times she’d talked to him about it before and perhaps, now that he didn’t feel any sort of loyalty towards her, he might give her a straight answer.  It was all she wanted at the moment, or at least all she wanted that was reasonable.  

When he didn’t answer immediately she assumed he was too proud to.  The smarmy bastard.  She gritted her teeth and was prepared to say something when he cut through her concentration, words sharp as a knife.  “You were fun.  New.  I could tell it wasn’t the first time you’d done something like that, and as I learned more about you I thought we were too similar to let you go.  I needed you; it was an actual compulsion to have you by my side, to feel as if you were mine though you were married to another.  It was as though I was looking at a mirror of myself and as you know by now I am quite vain.  I thought you might be the only one who I was compatible with.”

“And what changed that?”  She asked before she could contemplate the words falling from her lips.  Why did it matter?  It didn’t, she tried to reassure herself, even if some small part of her still wanted to know why he thought she was so easy to replace if he’d once valued her so highly.  

“I have been striving to be more practical.  I kept you at my side as long as you would allow, as long as anyone else would allow.  When that no longer became an option I thought it best to look elsewhere to appease my needs.  It made no sense to pine over a woman who, even if she managed to worm her way out of the situation, would never be of use to me in the same sense again.”  His words were cold and even if he hadn’t intended them to hurt they did.  He thought her replaceable just because it had grown difficult to be with her?  Ass.  She gritted her teeth and he took her silence as a cue to go on.  “But even when we were not doing as well as we had in the beginning I stuck with you because, despite what you might think, I cared about you.  I bought you the tavern to have you closer, but also to keep you from your husband you so hated.  It worked in both of our favors, and I helped you out of a sense of care as well as desire on my own behalf.  Even after I moved on I didn’t feel right about it.  I took Sigyn to bed out of duty the first evening, but all I could think of, and this is entirely true, is you.  I missed you, how you felt beneath me but also the time spent before and after, the talking.  How open I could be with you.  As I told you I felt our similarities to be the most important.”  He gave a deep sigh.  “It is strange.  I’ve never felt that way before and without knowing how to react or how to label it I distanced myself and lashed out later, unjustly.”

“It was justly,” she cut in.  “But what I did was as well.  I’m sorry Loki, but I won’t be the only one to take the fall for this.  I’m not about to let you walk off while I suffocate.  Funny feeling or not.”

“I understand.”  And he sounded as though he had.  His voice had gotten slightly closer, as if he’d turned his head closer to the wall.  Natasha listened harder, trying to detect an ounce of a lie.  “I understand it, Natasha, and I respect you for having the strength to do it.”  

It wasn’t what she was expecting at all.  She’d anticipated name calling, a slew of curses and a verbal slaughtering to cut her down to her basest level of humanity.  But this?  That acceptance and quiet, unreservedly apologetic understanding?  She didn’t know what to make of that.  She swallowed hard, the conflicting emotions making it more and more difficult to see Loki for what he really was.  

She let out a soft sigh.  “Is there any chance that I’m going to get to know the real you?” She asked, sounding exasperated.  She was.  There were too many mind games with Loki, and if there was one thing she was looking forward to at least she wouldn’t have to play them any more.  That was a plus.  Without much else to say she stretched out where she was sitting on the floor, feeling her bones creak and pop as her muscles did their best to relax.  

The last day Loki had one final request.  It was right before their dinner, and he was urgent sounding as he pressed closer to the wall.  “Natasha I have a proposition for you.”

Well that was dangerous, but what more could he do to her?  She bit her bottom lip before agreeing to it.  “What do you want?”

“If I can manage it would you . . . I mean there is nothing worse that could happen to us that isn’t already going to tomorrow.” She’d never heard him sound so flustered or so unsure before, not even when they’d first started this madness.  “If I can get the guard who brings our dinner to agree with it would you couple with me one last time?”

She actually snorted, unsure what to make of that.  “We’ve been condemned to death because we had sex outside of our own marriages, and you want to make it worse?  You really know there’s no chance that we can get out of this, don’t you?”

“I know better than to give myself false hope.”

“And what does your hope say about this situation and my answer?” She asked, amused.  

“That you would look forward to coupling one last time without worrying about the repercussions.  It’s not the best of situations that we’re in right now so why not make it better if we can?  It’s not as if anything worse can happen.”

How did he manage to read her thoughts like that?  But he had a point, though she knew that there was a slim to none chance of it working.  The guard would never let him do it.  

Not an hour later and he was stepping slowly into her her cell.  He looked disheveled as she’d expected, hair greasy and matted down from the many times he’d run his hands through it.  His gait was stiff while his eyes looked as though he hadn’t had sleep in the two past days they’d been there.  

“You’ve got an hour,” the guard said as he shut the barred door behind Loki.  The prince waited until they were alone before he stepped closer to her and tilted her head upwards so he could press his lips for the last time to hers.  It was nearly as passionate as the first, and from where Natasha was standing it actually made her knees go weak.  They discarded their clothing in a matter of minutes, time suddenly everything, as though he had a meeting to get to or there was a dinner rush expected in an hour that Natasha would have to help Matthew with.  He laid her down slowly on the dress she’d shed just moments ago, protecting her from the majority of the cold while his knees took the brunt of the hard surface beneath them.  If it bothered either one of them neither said a word; what was a moment’s discomfort in comparison to the last time they’d get to do this?  Arguing or not, neither could deny that things were at their best when they were having sex.  

He stuck two fingers slowly in his mouth, wetting them, before pressing them deep into her, doing his best to stretch her out immediately to prepare her for him.  She moaned quietly, body arching into his, goosebumps rising on her flesh as her fingers dug into the hard, cold ground beneath her.  She couldn’t deny that she’d missed this, especially when he pushed into her, hard and slick from the saliva he’d made sure to coat himself with beforehand.  He groaned her name through his thin lips, eyes closed for a moment.  They snapped open when Nat pulled at his hair, smiling when he looked surprisedly at her.  

“Hey, look at me this time.  I’m here” she murmured.  “You said you wanted me.  Here I am.”  

He groaned and pushed harder into her, his fingers biting into her hips where he held at her.  The sudden change in pace, shifting from careful to needy, aggressive, and intense was familiar.  It didn’t take her very long to finish, her throat raw from shouting.  Loki didn’t last much longer than that, his mouth latching onto her collar bone to leave a purpling bruise.  

He stood slowly after, collecting his clothing quietly, before waiting for her to do the same.  By the time the hour was done they’d taken opposite sides of the cell, sharing only a quick look between them saying what no words could say, thanking one another for what they’d done and saying goodbye.  It was the last chance they’d get.  

* * *

The next day dawned gloomy, overcast with clouds covering the sun.  Natasha was dressed in a plain brown shift as she was led up onto the stage.  A large crowd had gathered in front of them, Alexei among them.  His eyes were bright as he watched her being led up to the platform.  She didn’t look at him, swallowing hard as she watched the others instead.  None of them seemed to be saying a word; she’d anticipated to be called whore and slut time and time again as they had when she’d been escorted down but now?  

Well, there was something to be said about changing one’s mind.

Steve was in the crowd as well, though his eyes were sad when Natasha met his.  She tried for the smallest of smiles, certain it came out as a grimace.  She couldn’t help it, though, and he seemed to understand.  He nodded his head slowly, almost as if he were bowing to her, and when he brought his eyes back up she saw there were tears in them.  Her heart clenched.  Her poor friend, what had she done to him?  

Thor was nowhere near him, though Natasha was certain he wasn’t dealing with condemning his own brother to death. She couldn’t blame him for his absence.  The poor man had been through so much as it was, his brother having caused him too much pain as it was.  

The executioner was silent beneath his hood as he slipped the rope gently around her neck and tightened it, the harsh rope scratching the mark on her collarbone before it was tightened, a reminder why she was there in the first place.  From the side she could see Loki looking out, the bars of his cell just at the right position to watch the whole thing. She wondered if it had been on purpose, it was too perfect.  His eyes bled into hers, terrified for the first time she'd ever seen, but she simply nodded curtly and shut her eyes.  The rope tightened and she felt the floor go out from under her a moment later.

* * *

Nine months after his death it was Loki who had the last laugh, however, his son surviving his father.  Sigyn's second marriage was ruined by impropriety after she’d claimed her first marriage had never been consummated, yet when her stomach was swollen with child before she'd even laid with her newest husband the lie was impossible to maintain.  Payback was a bitch, after all.  

 


End file.
